'■■^:ir!:B^ :: ::-s;l^T-^r; 



J. K. Gctmpbcll. 



HMr.^ 




SUNBEA-MS: 



SOME 



poems ano Essays on Darious £opic& 



"I love the one whose spirit, like the sunbeam, 
can paint a rainbow o'er Niagara." 



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BIT OV .A.! CAMPBELL. 



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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 



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49 "9/fi 



CHEHALIS, W. T.: 

PRINTED BY WILLIS & RUSSELL AT "THE NUGGET" PRINTING HOUSE. 

4886. 




Entered according to Act of Congress, November 26, 18H4, 

By J. A. CAMPBELL, 
In the office of the Librarian of Congress , at Washington 



MESTON & DYGERT, 

BINDERS, 
PORTLAND, OREGON. 



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etrtcafwti. 



^O all the climbers on the mountain of life, whether 
treading wearily but resolutely up its steeps, 
amid the rose-tinted splendors of early morn, trium- 
phantly standing upon its loftiest heights with 
kindling eyes and swelling soul, drinking in the varied 
and beautiful scene in the gorgeous glories of high 
noon, or, with faltering and unsteady steps, descending 
its slopes among the golden billows and banners of 
sunset, we dedicate these pages. 

THE AUTHOR. 



^^^^f^^ 



A Dream . . 48 

A Mother's Lesson - 41 

A Mystic Stream 152 

A Picture of Memory 187 

A Prayer . 153 

A Thought at Sunset 77 

A True Sketch 36 

A Wish for Thee 129 

Burial of General Grant 176 

By the Sea. . . 129 

Childhood 156 

Christmas 150 

Death 55 

Death of Moses .122 

Extracts 186 

Faithful and True 161 

Farewell 200 

God is Love 178 

He Dies 132 

He is Risen 57 

Hours of Peace 43 

In Memoriam 89 

In Memoriam— C. R. Morgan 94 

In Memoriam — C. R. Morgan 96 

In Memoriam — Ernest Stewart 78 

In Memoriam — Edyth Shepard 108 

In Memoriam — Ella and Daisy Campbell 85 

In Memoriam — Franklin H. Crandall 75 



CONTENTS. 



In Memorial!] — Grandma Rowell 103 

In Memorial!) — Jesse E. Dailey . . 99 

In Memoriam — Willis Laughlin 91 

In Memoriam — Wilson Frederick Grabel 82 

In Memory of President Garfield 117 

Imperfection on Earth 58 

I Saw Thee There 155 

It Pays 140 

I Wish I Were in Heaven 80 

Land Beyond 39 

Lines to Mrs. Minnie Bone 126 

Lines Written in an Album 90 

Little Gracie 61 

Little Things 106 

Love* Reigned 97 

Memory 29 

My Boy ,.! 134 

My Friend 125 

My Grave 72 

No Death 27 

Not Forever 131 

Old Age 33 

Old Age 95 

On the Sand : 113 

On Wings 53 

Our Father 158 

Over the Wave 45 

Some Mistakes of Moses 64 

Sunset at Sea 110 

Through the Valley of Death 93 



10 



SUNBEAMS. 



That ev'ry life tho' filled with love 
And crowned with brilliants fair 

Shall plunge at last from hights above 
Into this deep despair ?" 

What demon taught thy tongue to say 

That "death itself is dark?" 
For thou hast never passed that way — 

And none turns back his barque ! 

In death's deep night "hope sees a star," 

Shining serene and bright, 
Thro' all the clouds and mists that bar 

The gates to heaven's light. 

What is that rustling wing Love hears 

In sorrow's darkest hour, 
When strong men bow themselves in tears 

And seek a higher power? 

Is it the wing of the soul set free 

From prison here below, 
Or has an angel come to see 

This spreading tide of woe? 

No matter which your answer here. 

Your doom it surely seals, 
For like the silent falling tear 

The heart's deep want reveals. 

Why think death better far than life 
To "all the countless dead," 



SUNBEAMS. 11 



If hope's sweet dream of th' future rife 
Has found a dreamless bed? 

Let us believe, in spite of fears, 
And tears, and words of doubt, 

There is a living God who hears 
For aye the victor's shout. 

Let us believe the brightening eyes, 
In death's last moment quite, 

Have caught a gleam of sunlit skies 
Ne'er viewed by mortal sight ; 

That angels swiftly from afar 
With gleaming wings of gold, 

From out the, heavenly gates ajar 
Bring earthward songs untold ; 

That multitudes redeemed of sin — 

Companions sweet of God — 
Midst the angel bands have passed within 

And golden streets have trod ; 

That millions still upon this side 

Are leaning on His arm, 
For strength in parsing Jordan's tide 

In safety from all harm ; 

That those who scoff shall bow the knee, 

Amidst a kneeling world, 
And clouds of shame and wrath shall be 

Forever there unfurl'd. 



THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS. 



LUKE XVI. : 19 ET AL. 



fARIOUS and singular have been the opinions and 
speculations of men upon this parable with re- 
gard to its real and supposed import. We take the 
liberty to say that the fourteenth verse of the same 
chapter contains the subject of the Savior's remarks 
and gives the key to the whole problem here involved. 
The covetousness of the Pharisees, who were then 
present, called out the Savior's burning words in this 
wonderful parable. Jesus, therefore, takes a covetous 
Pharisee, one of their own number, as it were, and 
makes him a representative of all covetous people to 
the end of time. His great sin was primarily covet- 
ousness, and secondarily unbelief or infidelity, conse- 
quent upon his inordinate or eager desire to accumu- 
late riches. The great Master then proceeds to lift the 
veil of the future world that they might see the legiti- 
mate and inevitable end of a life according to their 
principles. These Pharisees heard the Savior through 
all his great discourse until he came to the home 
thrust in these words : "Ye cannot serve God and 
mammon." Here, the common version says, "they 
derided him," but the original word literally means 
turned up the nose at his doctrine — an act signifying 
the utmost contempt for his teaching and a complete 



SUNBEAMS. 



13 



_ 



rejection of the same. By thus deriding and reject- 
ing Him of whom the law and the prophets speak, 
they rejected the testimony of their own great Moses : 
"Search the scriptures, for in them ye think ye have 
eternal life and they are they that testify of me." 
The besetting sin of the Jews was, in Jesus' time on 
earth, and still is, to give mammon the whole heart 
and hand in service six days of the w T eek, and on the 
seventh give him a cold and heartless form-worship in 
the synagogue. Serve God one day and mammon six. 
Through their rejection of Jesus and his doctrine they 
showed their infidelity to the testimony of Moses and 
the prophets, the very books which they claimed to 
hold to as their only guide in this life, and* in doing 
this they rejected the living God ; for "he that reject- 
eth me rejecteth him that sent me." Christ proceeds to 
show them the condition of such people beyond the 
river; He shows them that a man may not only be 
mistaken in and through life, but remain so in eternity. 
The rich man's unbelief in the Jewish scriptures fully 
appears when he calls upon Abraham to send Lazarus 
to his five brethren to warn them of his torment in the 
flames. The same infidelity that characterized him in 
life remains with him in hades. Hence, if men 
would be right in the future beyond death and the 
grave they must be right here. To this the rich man 
gives his full testimony when he desires his brethren to 
repent here before they, too, die ant} "come to this 
place of torment." This rich man, like many people 
of the present day, had concluded something else to 



14 



SUNBEAMS. 



be more effectual than the Law of God. He had in 
life rejected Moses and the prophets, and like king 
Saul when he forsook the living God, cast about him 
for one to come up from the dead to teach him. What 
utter contempt of God and his word — which is "sure 
converting the soul" — did he show by calling upon 
Abraham to send Lazarus to earth to convert men 
whom God's word had failed to convert. 

Abraham's reply is certainly a very strong and for- 
cible argument for the all-sufficiency of the w T ord of 
God in converting men, and it is all the more forcible 
coming as it does from the realm of spirits beyond the 
river and from the "Father of the faithful." "They 
have Moses and the prophets ; let them hear them. If 
they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will 
they be persuaded though one rose from the dead." 
Abraham tells him that these Jewish scriptures were 
sufficient to persuade men to repent without the event 
of one coming to them from the shadowy land of 
spirits. The very spirit of unbelief that caused them 
to reject the testimony of God's law would cause them 
to reject the testimony of a Lazarus from the bosom of 
Abraham. For the statutes of the Lord were given to 
them by "a dispensation of angels," whom Paul tells 
us are spirits. If these Pharisees in the long, long ago 
were without excuse because they were not persuaded 
to repent by the teachings of their scriptures, what 
shall be the fliml end of those who will not repent 
'midst the full-orbed splendor of our scriptures in 
which, superadded to the testimony of Moses and the 



SUNBEAMS. 15 



prophets, is the evidence of a greater than Lazarus 
or the brightest angel in the golden city — even Jesus, 
our Savior, newly risen from the dead — the witness 
of the apostles and early christians, many of whom 
were martyred for the same, and the unearthing of 
that long-hidden duplicate of God's word from moss- 
grown ruins of cities, temples, towers, pyramids and 
piles of art, gray with years and covered with the de- 
bris of centuries. Surely, God speaks "out of the 
ground" as well as from the parted skies. But, in the 
face of this overwhelming tide of light, men openly 
blaspheme the Lord's annointed and persecute his dis- 
ciples, like Saul of Tarsus, even unto strange cities. 
Even in this we find the word of the king fulfilled, for 
"evil men and seducers wax worse and worse, de- 
ceiving and being deceived." 

Amassing great treasure on earth was not the sin 
of this rich man, but his sin was in this amassing 
great wealth even at the expense of the lives of others. 
His covetousness, which God tells us "is idolatry," 
was the outward manifestation of the inward condition 
of the man's heart. His heart was with his treasure 
on the earth. 

Jesus does not condemn men for being rich, but 
he condemns those who "will be rich" even though 
they must, to get it, rob the poor, starve the sick and 
hungering, and distress the widow and oppress the or- 
phan. 'Tis not the man who simply possesses riches 
that is here condemned, but the wickedness of the 
principles that enables him to become rich. Of such 



J_ 



16 SUNBEAMS. 



an one the Savior says : "It is easier for a camel to 
go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to 
enter the kingdom of heaven." 

That Dives was very rich is evident from the de- 
scription given of his clothing and living. "He was 
clothed in purple and fine linen and fared sumptu- 
ously every day." Parkhurst objects to "fared sump- 
tuously," and suggests instead — "lived in jovial splen- 
dor every day." He then was a jovial and splendid 
fellow every day. He was a man who was looked 
upon by the world and called honorable and to whom, 
as he dashed out of his gate in splendid chariot, his 
acquaintances and even strangers would tip their hats, 
as men are ever ready to do to the rich. His wealth 
becomes still more conspicuous when we learn that his 
garments were royal ones — such only as kings can 
afford. The sea purple was the most beautiful and 
costly. Pliny tells of "fine linen" being sold for its 
weight in gold. Notice, too, that these were his every- 
day wear. How grand he must have appeared clothed 
in fine linen, clean and white, and over this suit of 
spotless white the kingly robe of sea purple hanging in 
splendid folds ! Notwithstanding his wealth and the 
honors of men, the Savior gives not his name — only a 
certain rich man. 

Jesus seems to be reading here from the "Lamb's 
Book of Life," in w T hich the names of such as will be 
rich do not appear, but in which the honest, trustful, 
faithful poor find a place and a worthy mention. The 
voice of the Holy Spirit has said : "Hath not God 



_ 



SUNBEAMS. 



chosen the poor of this world rich in faith and heirs of 
the kingdom which he hath prepared for them that 
love him?" 

While the name of the rich man is withheld, that 
of the poor man comes down the rush of ages to every 
nation, tribe and tongue with a meaning and a clear- 
ness none the less felt and known because of inter- 
vening centuries. 

Lazarus — God, my help. His character corres- 
ponded with his name, as may be learned from the 
waiting band of angels ready to bear him away to 
Abraham's bosom. The name of the rich man in his 
splendid palace and royal habiliments is forever lost 
to the human race, while that of the suffering poor 
man at his gate is known and read of all men. So 
the name of the proud Pharoah is lost to all time ; it 
may be while the name of Moses is lisped by every 
fireside beneath the sun. 

This beggar was "laid at his gate," which in 
Greek literally means was "thrown dow t n" at his 
gate, full of sores. This shows us that some Good 
Samaritans, it may be, had carried and laid him down 
at the rich man's gate or palace door, in the hope that 
his sorrowful condition would incite his pity and com- 
mand the help which they were unable to give. How 
vain the hope ! How often are our purest, fondest an- 
ticipations doomed to disappointment in this world of 
sin ! He was left in such place that the rich man 
could not fail, every time he went out or came in, to 
see him. Thus, in this life and that beyond the grave, 

3 



18 SUNBEAMS. 



he does not plead an excuse, save the implied one that 
the Jewish scriptures were insufficient to convert him 
or cause him to repent. He does not add falsehood to 
his already dark catalogue of sins by pleading that 
he did not know of Lazarus' condition. How long 
Lazarus remained at his gate we are not told, nor is it 
necessary for us to know, but a sufficient length of 
time for the rich man to become perfectly familiar with 
his appearance, for when he saw him again, though 
he was "afar off," he immediately recognized him 
though he was surrounded by angels and in "Abra- 
ham's bosom." 

Will you, kind reader, notice carefully, just here, 
the short sketch of his condition while lying at the 
gate. He "was laid" at the gate, unable to get there 
himself without being borne. He was covered with 
sores and "desiring to be fed." After being borne 
to the gate he was too feeble to feed himself, but de- 
sired "to be fed." He does not seem to have desired 
or asked anything which the rich man wanted or 
would use, only the crumbs which fell from his table, 
and it is fair to presume that even this pittance was 
denied him. Did wickedness ever surpass this ! How 
hard does the heart of this idolater become! even as 
hard as the gold which he worships. 

This royal gentleman (?) did not even condescend 
to bid his servants dress his wounds, but the dogs 
came and licked his sores, showing that covetous^ess 
so chokes out all the finer feelings of man that even 
the dogs are superior to him in sympathy for the suf- 



1 



SUNBEAMS. 19 



fering. But an objector is ready to say : "He did not 
do anything to Lazarus, and why, therefore, should he 
be condemned ?" Doing nothing to him or for him is 
the very thing for which he should be condemned. 
Doing nothing w T hen they should have relieved the*" 
needy and the distressed, is precisely the sin of those 
on the left hand, to whom the King says : "Depart 
from me into everlasting fires prepared for the devil 
and his angels. " So also with that wicked and sloth- 
ful servant, who did not go forth to increase his lord's 
money, but digged in the ground and hid it. The 
master, therefore, when he returned, said to the other 
servants: "Bind him hand and foot, and cast him 
into the outer darkness." He did not do anything, 
yet his failure to. do was the cause of his master's 
great displeasure. Doing nothing is often, as in the 
parable we are considering, the greatest possible crime. 
Remember, if you please, that Lazarus was sick and 
perfectly helpless, and without the assistance of some 
person must lie there alone and die, but with it per- 
haps would survive. The rich man by withholding 
that assistance withheld from him the only hope of 
life. Therefore, in a sense, he murdered him. He 
died and went into eternity with not only the stain of 
murder upon him but the despicable crime of killing 
a sick and helpless man, and that, too, at his own 
door. How darkly the shadows gather, how gloomy 
the picture. How fearful the thought of going to 
meet the living God who cannot look upon sin with 
even the least allowance, with such sin unforgiven. 



20 SUNBEAMS. 



Here let us pause long enough to notice that it 
was not the rich man's riches that took him to hell, it 
was his covetousness ; neither was it the poverty, sores 
and rags of Lazarus that took him to Abraham's 
bosom, it was his faith in God. While here among 
men the one is clothed in royal blue and white while 
the other is clothed in rags. The one enjoys good 
health and fares sumptuously every day, while the 
other is covered with sores and perishing with hunger. 
The one has many servants, the other is attended only 
by the dogs. But this life, whether of splendor or 
misery, must have an end. 

"And it came to pass that the beggar died and was 
carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom ; the rich 
man also died and was buried." 

The rich man started from the highest possible 
point of human wealth, and fame, and honor, while 
the other started from the lowest possible point of hu- 
man poverty and need. The one, while following the 
dictates of his covetousness was on the descending 
grade, while the other, steadily following his helper, 
God, was on the ascending grade. We here learn that 
the tendency of covetousness is ever downward till it 
reaches its farthest limit, which is hell, while the des- 
tiny of one who follows faith is an abode with the an- 
gels of God and in Abraham's bosom. But they, both 
beggar and prince, reach and pass out at the same 
gate. Here they are equals at last, but only for a mo- 
ment even — the moment of death. Here the fortune 
of the rich man must be left behind, and single-handed 



_ 



SUNBEAMS. 



21 



and alone he must pass out at the gate and under the 
deep shadow of eternity. His retinue of liveried ser- 
vants can no longer attend him, and there are no 
friends in waiting beyond the gate to escort him on, 
for he has spent no time nor money making to him- 
self friends to receive him into the everlasting habita- 
tions. 

With the other the case is far otherwise. He 
spent his life in doing the will of God and acquainting 
himself with the will of his father and the manners 
and customs of his people ; therefore, beside the gate 
the angels were in waiting to bear him on his way of 
life. 0, thought, ineffably sweet ! that when the faith- 
ful pass the mystic gate the white-robed and shining 
bands of the further shore wait to welcome them and 
"bear" them in triumph up to the City of God. Their 
lines of life then cut in the hour of death, but each 
pursues the same course beyond death. The course of 
the rich man was downward until death and he pur- 
sues it beyond — even down to hell. The course of 
Lazarus Avas upward until death and he pursues the 
same course beyond — even up to the bosom of the 
Father of the Faithful. 

We learn here that the path to hell is a continued 
descent, and, therefore, no effort is required to reach it ; 
like the current of a stream it carries all idlers down 
to the one destiny — the storm-tossed and fearful sea. 
On the other hand, the way to heaven is a continual 
ascent, calling for unceasing effort to reach its gates of 
pearl. 



22 SUNBEAMS, 



The rich man is now the beggar and the beggar is 
the rich man ; the former begs for Lazarus to come 
and cool his tongue, while the latter has reached his 
treasure and is rich beyond comparison, having an in- 
numerable company of angels for his servants. The 
one laid all his treasure up on the earth and had to 
leave them, while the other laid up his treasure above 
and went to it and was rich indeed. 

Another matter deserving of thought is that the 
rich man not only died but "was buried," an event 
which is not mentioned concerning Lazarus, who, if 
buried at all, was buried so humbly as not to attract 
any attention whatever. But the other calls for men- 
tion here, and no doubt but his burial was a splendid 
event, like his life of splendor had been. We may im- 
agine a costly and splendid monument and sepulchre 
engraven with his many excellencies and virtues ; but, 
like the subject of a story which w T e once read, which 
was substantially as follows : A very wicked man 
died and his relatives and friends put him in a splen- 
did tomb, upon which they cut a brief sketch of his 
life and noble deeds. But he came to life and got out 
of the tomb and stood looking at the inscription. 
Finally he shook his head and murmured, "They put 
me in the wrong tomb." 

The rich man's robe of purple is now exchanged 
for a robe of flame, and the rags of Lazarus are 
changed for a mantle of spotless white. We also 
learn that these conditions are fixed — unchangeable. 
While in this life, the gulf between a life of sin and a 



SUNBEAMS. 



23 



life of holiness may be crossed, but beyond there is no 
post mortem gospel to cause the wicked to forsake his 
way and the ungodly man his thoughts ; neither are 
there temptations to lead the pure astray. That gulf 
is not only fixed, but it is a great gulf — so wide as is 
the difference between absolute purity and sin. 

He saw Abraham "afar off." "He cried and 
said, Father Abraham." He still clung to his fleshly 
relations. No doubt but still he is deluded, like Nico- 
demus of old, then king, that his birth of flesh of the 
seed of Abraham entitled him to the favor of Abra- 
ham, no matter what his life had been ; but it was the 
very fact of his being a son of Abraham and dishonor- 
ing it by a life of sin that sent him to hell and tor- 
ment. This request for Abraham to relieve his tor- 
ment is the only "invocation of saints" mentioned 
in Holy Writ, and this was denied. See with what 
skill the denial is made : While acknowledging the 
fleshly tie, he tells him the terrible truth that he ought 
to have learned long before that his course of life 
should have been worthy of a son of Abraham. "Son, 
remember." "Ah ! here's the rub." He is thrown 
back upon his past history as the sole cause of this 
terrible condition of things. "Son, remember that 
thou, in thy lifetime, received thy good things." Jesus 
said : "Verily, I say unto you, they have (now) their 
reward." "Likewise, Lazarus, in his lifetime, received 
evil things." "But now, after death, he is comforted 
and thou art tormented." 

This condition of things in the case of each was 



24 SUNBEAMS. 



-I 



the necessary result of their deliberate choice and 
course of life. 

Jesus said that "Ye cannot pursue two courses of 
life at once — God and mammon ;" hence a choice 
must be made and a course of life according to it be 
led, the end of which will be of a character suitable 
for such a life. 

The rich man chose the good things of this life 
and the poor man chose the good things of heaven. 
One chose mammon for his helper, the other chose 
God for his help, hence the different lives and the dif- 
ferent destinies. Yes, these men had reached the end 
of their course and are called on to look back, and it 
is fair to presume that all men beyond death are and 
will be looking full upon the course which they pur- 
sued in this life. One thing we wish to impress here, 
so that it may not be forgotten ; it is this : Our lives 
here fixes our condition there ; therefore, to be forever 
happy beyond death and dwell in an abode of peace 
and calm repose, we must, in this life, take God for our 
helper or be co-workers with God. 

Let us, ere we pass on and forget it, attend to the 
rich man's prayer, which is perhaps the only one he 
ever made, and this he put off till he w r as in hell. "I 
pray thee, Father, that thou wouldst send him to my 
father's house, for I have five brethren, that he may 
testify unto them, lest they, also, come to this place of 
torment." No doubt he now 7 remembers that he and 
they had often scoffed together, like many persons at 
the present, at the idea of such a place or condition as 



SUNBEAMS. 25 



hell, but from sad experience he can now testify of it, 
and so severe is it that he prefers eternal separation 
from his brethren rather than that they should suffer 
it with him. How lifelike this picture ! Even if the 
man is in hell, he is not wholly devoid of care for 
others. This shows us with how much of good a man 
may yet go to hell. Like Adam in Eden, and all sin- 
ners from that time to this, this man tries to shift the 
sin from his own soul and place it upon some one else. 
He strongly implies in his argument with Abraham 
that God is at fault. He did not warn and persuade 
me sufficiently, else I would not have been here now, 
but would have repented. If God had sent one from 
the dead I would have repented. Here he confesses 
the cause of his being in hell : "If one went unto them 
from the dead they will repent." Repentance then 
will keep them away from that place of torment ; 
hence, through failure to repent, he had reached it. 
He also tells us what produces repentance : "That he 
may testify unto them." Abraham tells us that it re- 
quires persuasion to produce repentance. In per- 
suading a man to repent the testimony is used no 
doubt to convince him of the necessity of repentance. 
This rich man then confesses that what he did not do 
was the cause of his deplorable condition. He did not 
repent. 

Some contend that the hell of this parable means 
nothing but the grave. Who ever heard of repentance 
keeping a man out of the grave? "It is appointed 
unto all men once to die." 

4 



26 SUNBEAMS. 



But, kind reader, Christ lies wounded and bleeding 
at your gate. Will you care for him? Remember 
that this same man of sorrows at your gate will come 
to you in terrible majesty to judge you. How sweet — 
in the gathering light of eternity's morn, when the 
heavens are overcast with the brightness of a million 
angels' wings, and the Redeemer with a loud shout 
descends to gather up his jewels — to look back to the 
days and years when he was in deepest need at your 
door and found there the needed help at your hand. 



s&*r 




L 



NO DEATH. 



H^HERE is no death ; each silvery star, 

As it speeds away in its path afar, 
But brighter shines on some fairer shore, 
When its light by us is seen no more. 

There is no death ; for the Master said 

That they only sleep whom we call dead — 

As the flowers wait, thro' the winter's day, 
The sunlight clear and the warmth of May. 

There is no death ; but an angel form 

Speeds over the earth thro' calm and storm, 

And, with eyes that scan the soul's great deep, 
He watches the countless forms that sleep. 

There is no death ; for a home on high — 
The aiden sweet of the azure sky — 

Awaits the souls of the pure that fade, 
As autumn leaves in the dust are laid. 

There is no death ; they only depart 

And leave us here with an aching heart ; 

But our souls shall be of sorrow shorn 
When we shall meet in the rising morn. 

There is no death ; with a fadeless brow, 
A throne of white, and a robe of snow, 



28 SUNBEAMS. 



Our King shall come to the silent grave 
To finish his work — the lost to save. 

There is no death ; for the earth once more 
Shall in verdure bloom from shore to shore ; 

All nations then from the dust shall spring 
Earth's jubilee, when the dead men sing. 

As the lightning's glare, when storm-clouds sweep 
All over the earth and mighty deep ; 

As the sun lies down in robes of gold, 
The pure shall rest in His peaceful fold. 

There is no death ; for the tempest's wrath 
Is marked by verdure along its path ; 

The rocks torn down by the earthquake's throe 
Shall form the dust where the mosses grow ; 

For Life is the victor, pure and fair, 
Who reigns o'er earth, and sea, and air, 

Who, mocking, sits on the mould'ring tomb 
Rejoicing there in his brightest bloom. 



MEMORY. 



tsit by the fire at eventide, when the sun has set be- 
hind the western bulwark of mountains and hung 
above the horizon a thousand broad banners of gold, 
mellowing and softening the clouds far up in the sky 
with indescribable waves of light and fringes of snow, 
and think of by-gone years. In that panorama, cov- 
ering a period of more than thirty years, are some 
scenes of exquisite loveliness ; but sweetest of all in 
fadeless beauty stands before me the image of a frail 
and delicate child — looking out of the window, smiling, 
as I return home at night ; escaping through the door 
and hastening in glee to meet me at the gate ; climb- 
ing up with joy to kiss me, and finally reclining the 
little sinless head upon my bosom and closing the 
beautiful eyes in soft and peaceful slumbers till the 
morn. She belonged to another and better world and 
to Him who "beareth the lambs in his bosom" and 
"giveth his beloved sleep." For five delightful years 
He gave her to my care ; but, oh, how sad the parting 
when He took her away to His bosom and gave her 
eternal rest. Hope points me heavenward saying, 
"Thou shalt regain thy lost one, not as she departed 
but with infinite sweetness and glory upon her "where 
no thought of parting shall sadden the meeting." 



THE LOST CHILD. 



JfAR o'er the distant heights, like wings of gloom, 
The storm-clouds swept in dreadful marchings 
forth, 
While o'er the mountains' distant peaks, anon 
The lightning played his fiery gleam of death. 
The thunder, too, his organ deep attuned, 
That woke the echoes of the cliffs from 'far. 
And down the canyons vast his music rolled 
Until it reached the distant plain and sent 
The life-blood from the cheek of one who prayed 
In deepest woe thro' all that night of gloom. 

Around her trembling form that mother threw, 

In haste, her robe, to shield her from the storm, 

And forth amidst the fearful crash she went. 

All broken were the prayers she said to Him 

Who rules the storm and paints the bannered cloud. 

There was no light to tell the way, save that 

The brilliant lightning momentarily 

Flashed a flood throughout the forest wild, 

Then darkness, black as Erebus, was there 

And shouting for her child died at her feet. 

Her little girl had wandered forth along 
The brook, where gentle ripples played, to see 
The moss that hung in garlands from the rocks, 
And silently bent down to kiss the stream, 



SUNBEAMS. 



31 



For nature, careless of her gems, had sown 
This wildwood thick with flowers ; here and there 
Between the rocks came forth their starry leaves 
To lure the child still onward down the stream, 
And charm her soul afresh with joy, until 
Night and the storm held full empire there. 

Adown the brook, where forests dense confront 
The way, o'er rough and hoary rocks, with eager 
Haste she sped, while e'er round her in the gloom 
Weird, ghostly shapes rose up, then disappeared. 
Till childhood's strength exhausted quite, o'ercome 
With many bitter tears, in wild despair 
She fell upon the earth and, sobbing, fell 
Asleep, and dreamed of mother's gentle song — 
That angels white and pure stood near her couch 
And beckoned her with snowy hands to Heaven. 

The storm, as a receding battle, died 

In gentle murmurs o'er the distant hills, 

When silvery stars, with calm, pale faces 

Peered from the azure canopy above, 

In pity, on the sleeping child nestled 

In a mossy nook between two giant rocks 

Upon the very brink — 0, angels, bear 

Her up — of frightful depths, an hundred feet 

Below where dashed the silvery brooklet on, 

Hastening to the sea to die amid its waves. 

He gathers up his jewels bright, who notes 
The sparrow's fall, nor lets his lambs be lost 



32 SUNBEAMS. 



Without an angel's timely hand to guide 
Amidst the vale of shade. While yet the moon 
From snowy throne kept her watch and ward above, 
Amidst the gray of faintest dawn a form 
Bent low above the sleeping one whose lips 
Of carmine softly moved then wore a smile 
As mother when she looks upon her child 
In the holiest quietude of home. 

While silvery lamps of earliest dawn 

Still lingered in the sky as lovers loth 

To part, and o'er the eastern hills 

The chariots of the storm, in robes of steel, 

Rolled sullenly away trailing their 

Banners, till silent pencils of the sun, 

Dipped in Heaven's gold, transformed the scene 

To one of purest loveliness, as if 

An angel spread his pinions there ; two hearts 

With gladness filled — the savior and the 

Saved — with hurrying feet their threshold passed. 




OLD AGE. 



^HROUGH all the tempests and storms, disappoint- 
ments and trials of life, there is a polar star to 
which hope points with unerring finger — the home of 
rest. The aged man, with snowy locks and furrowed 
brow and trembling limbs, like a storm-beaten, battle- 
scarred ship almost home, passes over the bar into the 
calm waters beyond the dashing breakers of this wild 
and stormy sea. No gale can ever strike him now ; no 
blinding fogs concealing hidden rocks ; no chilling 
blasts shall strike his frame nor freeze his blood ; no 
sere and yellow leaf shall greet his eyes, for there 
flowery spring reigns forever. No strangers wait him 
on that shore — but the great family in Christ Jesus, of 
which he is a member, all robed in vestments of snowy 
white. "0, joyful and sweet will the meeting be." 

a 01d age serene and bright, 
And lovely as a Lapland night, 
Shall lead thee to thy grave." 



SOMEWHERE, 



IJOMEWHERE. I know, is an island green, 
^ Where the flowers never facie. 
And the pure light falls with golden sheen 
On an ocean round it laid ; 

Where the fadeless sky is soft and clear 

As notes of an angel's song 
Over the wonderful city dear 

To hearts that have waited long. 

Myriad souls, through tear-dimmed eyes. 

Look up to that sunlit shore. 
Where the weary ones, in sweet surprise. 

Shall hunger and thirst no more. 

Each soul that passes from earth away, 

To the fragrant groves of rest. 
Dwells in the calm of eternal day. 

In the army of the blest. 

A crystal stream, o'er a pearly bed. 

Inlaid with the purest gold, 
Is flowing by, as the Father said, 

Where the Savior leads his fold. 

The tree of life, with a fragrant bloom. 
On its verdant banks shall wave. 



SUNBEAMS. 



35 



Where none shall weep at the silent tomb 
Nor laurel a single grave. 

A song rolls out on the balmy air, 

That no otherwhere is known, 
Whose notes are pure as an infant's prayer 

Floating softly to the throne. 

Soon we shall cross o'er the mystic sea, 

To that island evergreen, 
And join the victors pure and free 

Which no mortal eye hath seen. 

We wait and watch for the rushing keel 
To strike on this darksome land, 

To bear us forth where the surges kneel 
Their praise on the golden strand. 




A TRUE SKETCH. 



5|N the morning of my life I knew a maiden, fair and 
^ beautiful as the first faint streak of a May morn- 
ing, in whose eyes sparkled the joyousness of the 
spirit of love, and whose steps told of the Luoyancy 
and ardor of the life within. The tinge of her cheeks 
was like the indescribable blush of the fairest sunset, 
which, with the slightest emotion of the heart within, 
with magic quickness came and went. 

Her w T hole life seemed one spotless page, on which 
God had written naught but peace, and joy, and love. 

She moved among the young, the gay, the beauti- 
ful, dispensing the sunshine of her bright spirit to all 
around. 

Years rolled on, bringing hope's fruition or bury- 
ing the jewels of the future, one by one, at our feet. 
Again I saw her, this time a jeweled bride, led to 
the hymenial altar in flowing robes, with bosom 
heaving with bright hopes of a life full of peace and 
unmingled joy. 

Three years swept by on the wings of light and 
shadow, changing all upon earth's bosom, and again 
I saw her, not, indeed, a blushing bride, but lying upon 
a cot, worn, weary, and wasted by disease and pain. 

Already, the dark wings of the angel of death 
were overshadowing her frail form, his lustre was 
glittering in her eyes, and his icy signet was stealing 



SUNBEAMS. 



37 



o'er her face, where patience had already left her 
heavenly stamp. 

As I took her wasted hand in mine and said "God 
bless you ; good bye/ 7 she faintly said, "Thank you ; 
goodbye." In her eyes I saw the crystal tear-drops 
glittering one moment and then turned away to see 
her not again until the word of God shall sound 
through all the unseen world and stir once again the 
dark and mouldering skeletons of the ages past. 

Yes, the rosebud unseemly 

Shall burst into bloom, 
So the bodies that slumber 

Shall rise from the tomb. 

When life's sunlight has faded * 

And night has come on, 
We shall quietly rest till 

The glorious dawn. 

When the music shall greet us, 

At break of the day, 
And the night shall be banished 

Forever away. 



-^>^rs^- 



TO A FRIEND, 



U^ HE bouquet you sent by your mother's hand 
Was fair as a dream of Elysian strand : 
The rainbow was robbed, and so were the skies, 
Of their beautiful tints to furnish its dyes. 

The robes of the west, that mingle and shift, 
Were plucked to adorn this wonderful gift. 

When I look on its hues sweet pictures rise 

Of lovlier flowers and holier skies. 

A valley enchanted, and lovelier far 

Than the light that falls from the evening star, 

When we shall be pure as the vesper chime 

Of silver bells in the olden time. 

Long years have flown and we're nearing the shore 

Of that sinless aiden forevermore ; 

Beside our Shepherd we'll silently stray, 
And dwell forever in regions of day. 




LAND BEYOND. 



|jf HRISTIAN, there is a land beyond, where no part- 
ing ever comes. No sere and yellow leaf shall 
ever break the continual and forever green of the 
beautiful and refreshing groves. No dark and porten- 
tous cloud shall ever obscure the peaceful skies or 
wave their black wings over the terrified traveller. 
When the weary pilgrim, pale, haggard and worn, 
reaches the foot of the mountain of life, on the sunset 
side, and silently disappears in the dark, unsounded 
sea, whose waves wash a pearly strand on the other 
side — alone he enters there — but emerges on the sun- 
rise shore and treads the sands of gold beside the cru- 
cified of Galilee. There the crystal waves of the river 
of life^oftly murmur through the midst of the street, 
far into whose sparkling depths millions of white- 
robed forms are mirrored. "There the wicked cease 
from troubling and the weary are at rest." There 
"peace flows as a river all boundless and free." We, 
who have had our hearts mangled and torn by the 
parting kiss of our little darlings, and have followed 
them with many bitter, bitter tears to the "silent halls 
of death," shall meet them "beyond the river," "where 
the surges cease to roll ;" where "we shall see Him as 
He is, and be like him," with "countenances like 
lightning and raiment white as snow ;" with buoyant 
steps, immortal youth and eternal life. 0, how our 



40 SUNBEAMS. 



hearts yearn for the time when this weary waiting 
shall be ended, and the archangel's voice shall gently 
break the solemn stillness, calling the victors home. 

"There's a crown forthe victor, a crown of light, 
To be worn with a robe whose spotless white 
Makes darkness seem resting on Alpine snows." 

Then "we shall rejoice with joy unspeakable and 
full of glory," for — 

"Spring shall revisit the mouldering urn 

And day shall dawn on the night of the grave." 

"The enrapturing joy of a moment there 
Is sweeter far than the holiest prayer, 

And the crowning bliss of that home shall be 
To dwell with Him w T ho died for me. 

"There, nearest the throne, where the spotless be, 
All the jewels we've lost we then shall see, 
Then, thrilled with the joys of heaven above, 
We'll drink of the fountain of infinite love. 

"How sweet to think that on our eyes 
That lovely scene shall soon arise ; 
, That we shall wake from sorrow's dream 
Beside a pure and living stream." 



&* 



A MOTHER'S LESSON. 



9| child went forth on the pebbles to play, 
In the holy calm of a autumn day, 
The pure waters near by, with' dash and roar, 
Were sweeter that day than ever before. 

The sunbeams came with mystical glow, 
Over waves and pebbles that glittered below, 
And gave to the waters an emerald hue, 
As they swiftly sped from the gazer's view. 

The soft-tinted birds, with musical note, 
In glittering splendor above did float ; 
The fishes, all clad in silver and gold, 
Sped swiftly aw T ay as dreams that are told. 

The autumn leaves, of such magical dies, 
All shimmering shone from inverted skies — 
A living picture, of delicate size, 
Of the beauties rare of God's paradise. 

Now, quick as a thought, a rainbow has spread 
Its wonderful pinions high overhead, 

That joined one beneath, inverted and bright, 
And formed a grand circle of glory and light. 

Forgetful of self, 'mong glories he stood 

And dreamed of the home of the pure and good, 



42 SUNBEAMS. 



Till gently was laid upon his fair head 
His mother's soft hand — who tenderly said : 

Darling, our Father, in mercy, has given 
These things to lure our spirits to heaven, 

Where all things are pure, and holy, and bright, 
And naught shall e'er come to mar our delight. 




HOURS OF PEACE. 



r^iOURS of peace and gladness spread their silvery 
^ pinions over us in the thickest of the battle of 
life, as angels came to the patriarchs and prophets of 
God in the far distant ages — bright and beautiful — but 
linger not beside us. In such moments we wonder 
that our hearts should ever be aught but delightful 
temples, decorated with gay and fragrant bloom and 
cheered by heavenly strains of music. Indeed, when 
we remember that the infinite expanse is filled with 
countless golden spheres, rolling forever onward, mak- 
ing the universe resplendent with the scintillations of 
God's glory ; 

"Forever singing, as they shine, 
The hand that made us is divine ;" 

That the earth is filled with singing birds, dashing 
waterfalls, murmuring brooks, fragrant flowers, sighing 
zephyrs, gorgeous rainbows, golden sunsets and ma- 
jestic forests ; that over all the earth is spread, by in- 
visible fingers, a robe of softest green that wearies not 
the eye ; that high over all, at times, is seen the 
chariots of cloud, moving swiftly on like armed war- 
riors eager for the fray ; when we remember all these, 
and ten thousand others that our good Father has 
spread around our transient abode, we should be filled 
with unutterable devotion to Him, and, as a feeble 
token of our gratitude, give Him a life of obedience 



44 



SUNBEAMS. 



and trust. If the love of God filled the valley through 
which we "flee as a shadow" with such delightful 
sights, and sounds, and joys, what, 0, what shall we 
find in that mansion where we shall dwell forever? If 
God made the heavens and earth in six days, what 
shall be the glory of the place which he has been pre- 
paring for us for nearly two thousand years ? 

All these are mine, in beneficence given 
To soften the thorns in the pathway to heaven ; 
To brighten the links of life's mystical chain, 
As I swiftly pass on toward Eternity's main. 




OVER THE WAVE. 



|gj|VER the wave, now washing the pearl, 
Along the shore of the spirit world, 
As a beacon bright, with shVry song, 
That glittering boat still glides along. 

Over the wave, through the mist and foam, 
That phantom craft has forever come, 

And forever found, where the wavelets died, 
The mother's pet and the father's pride. 

Brave warriors gray, on the battle plain, 
Lay down their armor among the slain, 
And children, too, forgetting their play, 
Are borne by that rushing craft away. 

This side the wave, where the king is laid, 
The lover strong and the tender maid, 
The watchers wait for the snowy white 
Of the spreading sail to burst in sight. 

Beyond the wave is the song so sweet, 
That millions sing at the Father's feet, 

Which none can learn but the pure and good 
Who were redeemed by the Savior's blood. 

Over the mountain, adown the wave, 
Where the rainbow of life sets in the grave, 



46 SUNBEAMS. 



My darling fair, with her blushes true, 
Hasted away and was lost to view. 

Over the wave, from the golden land, 
The Pilot came with outstretched hand ; 
With words of love and a face of light 
He robed her then in garments white. 

Beyond the tide, 'neath the crystal dome, 

Amidst the bliss of a perfect home, 

Where gleams the light of a thousand wings 
Her blood-washed spirit forever sings. 

Over the sea, in the gold-paved street, 
Where all are charmed with music sweet, 
She is watching still, as angels come, 
To welcome me to a grand new home. 




THANK GOD FOR CLOUDS. 



^F there were no clouds to form the canvas we 
^ should never see the gorgeous dyes and indescrib- 
able shades wrought by the wonderful skill of the In- 
finite Artist. 

We should never behold that charming picture — an 
island celestial, floating silently over us, whose shores 
are fringed with purest snow and tipped with faintest 
gold ; so beautiful that it seems an angel's barque, 
broken from its moorings on the margin of the crystal 
sea, and floating away to us to show how surpassingly 
lovely are all things where the light of eternity lingers. 

Our Father hath given much beauty to charm 
Our souls from sin, which allures but to harm, 
And adapted the eye and spirit to view 
With joy the spotless, the pure and the true. 




A DREAM. 



^1 dream of the night, with its silvery spell, 

Came over my couch and around me it fell ; 
'Twas the gleam of a robe, with a golden light, 
That gave to my soul its triumphant delight. 

In the years that were past she had gone far away, 
Had faded and drooped, as the thing of a day, 

And, with garlands of roses lain light on her breast. 

In silence and tears we had lain her to rest. 

The roses had grown, and the willows had spread 
Their branches all over the fair sleeper's bed ; 
Now all that was left, that the eye could behold, 
Was the curl I still kept — a treasure of gold. 

But my spirit, that night, in dreaming, had fled 
To the evergreen shore of the spotless dead, 

Where I heard once again her silvery tone . 

Re-echo in sweetness around the white throne. 

Again, by my side, knelt that angel, as fair 
As the spirits of peace — the white wings of prayer ; 
We wandered together in rapturous delight 
Where day never fades 'neath the black wing of night. 

Then, all through the streets of the city of gold, 
Whose glory the angels in beauty have told, 



J_ 



SUNBEAMS. 49 



Or close by the waves of the crystalline stream, 
As fair as the pinions of flight in a dream, 

Beneath the fair rainbow, whose beauty unrolled, 
With banners of glory and robings of gold, 
We were lost in the charms of a heavenly spell, 
As sweet as the ransomed in glory can tell ; 

For each felt the thrill of the love that is sweet — 
As shown in the life of the Savior replete ; 
The spell was too sacred in rapture to last, 
For all through my being its joys had passed. 

The angel of morn softly opened the gate, 
Where scenes of. the earth at its portals await, 
Then past was the glory that over me shone, 
With wings, as of lightning, my vision had gone. 

E'er since, when the stars have all faded from sight, 
And gone on the wings of the spirits of night, 

When millions of dewdrops hold pictured the sun, 
As bright as when first his career was begun ; 

Or when, 'midst the gardens of flowers, I strayed, 
As the King of the Heavens his chariot stayed, 
When high on the tree-tops is seen his last beam, 
'Tis then, in sweet rapture, I think of my dream. 



THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. 



/Sf'HE soul must be dull, indeed, who has not been 
thrilled with the ten thousand beauties which the 
Maker of earth and sky has left imprinted everywhere 
in his vast universe. Who has not been filled with si- 
lent, deep, unutterable joy while watching the changing 
host of gold-tinted clouds at evening, when the sun 
nears the horizon ? Now the scene is one vast ocean of 
crimson, sapphire, opal and pearl ; now a vast sea of 
gold, tipped with silver ; now a faint and indefinable 
gray ; again a deep mantle of steel, on which may be 
seen high and mighty billows, like giants on the field 
of battle, which at iast becomes a robe of ebony, for a 
background to the grand picture of the heavens, 
whereon a million golden-armored sentinels of night 
the brighter shine by contrast. 

Not an angel to-day in the deep-vaulted skies 
Shall be able to paint all those wonderful dyes — 
From the snow on the mount to the gold of the mine 
And a thousand fair tints that I cannot define. 

Who has not stood transfixed with delight beside 
some silvery brooklet, far away in some mountain 
gorge, where grand old forest trees — hoary monarchs 
of the centuries — rear to heaven their lofty heads, and 
beside whose waters of silvery and transparent beauty 
hang garlands and festoons of moss of unique and va- 



SUNBEAMS. 



51 



rious forms, woven by the snow-white, magic hands of 
the goddess of the mountain? Again, we watch with 
kindling eyes and swelling soul the "Bow of Promise" 
unrolled upon the deep-dyed background of the re- 
treating storm, which is the sign and signal set to bid 
our fears depart, for the storm is overpast. 

On the wings of the tempest past over, 
The Father his token doth spread ; 

On the night that's most gloomy and starless 
A morn of rare splendor is shed. 

Again, we stand beside the "still waters," in the 
"green pastures," and contemplate, with pleasure, the 
snowy billows of cloud moving slowly on, like the 
measured tread of a white-robed army, or sw 7 iftly 
changing "a thousand fathoms down." Now we climb 
wearily upward for miles and leagues, every inch of 
which has been beautified by an infinite mind and 
skill, till we stand at last upon the lofty summit of the 
everlasting hills where, before us, east and west, north 
and south, for miles and miles, the landscape stretches 
until it is lost in the hazy distance, where earth and 
sky meet and mingle. The vast panorama of moun- 
tains, hills, lakes and prairies lift and fall upon our 
vision like retreating waves. While standing here 
clouds begin to gather far down the mountain side and 
quickly shut out the landscape from our sight, when 
we are treated to such a display of beauty as rarely 
falls to the lot of mortals. The sheeted lightning, 



52 



SUNBEAMS. 



darting here and there, like streams of liquid fire, in 
what looks to us like dark, deep waters, far below us, 
while we stand amid the calm sunshine beneath un- 
clouded skies. At last the storm god has vented his 
ire, and instead of streams of fire we behold upon the 
cloud not a rainbow but a full circle — an aureola, 
lying peacefully there like the rainbow eternal around 
the white throne. How easy the transition of thought 
from this scene of physical nature to that grand realm 
of spiritual existence and life pictured in the wonder- 
ful gallery of God's eternal truth : The twelve founda- 
tions laid of precious stones of various hues, super- 
imposed upon each other, through which the glory of 
God and the Lamb eternally shines, producing such a 
rainbow around the throne and the victors there as eye 
hath not seen on earth. Surely, neither the light of 
the sun nor the moon is needed to illumine the spirits' 
sweet home. 



0, the spirits' sweet home, no tongue can e'er tell 
How fair is the place where the pure shall dwell. 
Where their whole lives shall be as a peaceful dream 
That flows on for aye. as a gentle stream. 

In our descent from our mountain hight. richly 
plumed songsters of the forest from leafy bowers sa- 
lute our ears with their unwritten songs of praise to 
Him who notes the sparrow's fail. We reach home at 
last feeling like we had "Once lived in heaven and, 
straying, had lost our way." 



ON WINGS. 



HEN round me the whirlpool of sorrow shall rise, 
Till spray from its surges mount up to the skies. 
And around my frail bark the death angel sings, 
'Tis then, like an eagle, Fll mount up on wings. 

When flowers of hope shall all wither and fade, 
And the joys of life in the dust shall be laid, 

When friends all prove false, where affection still 
clings, 

Tis then to the Savior I'll mount up on wings. 

When sickness shall come and my cheeks shall grow 
pale — 

0, how many on earth can tell that dread tale — 
By prayer I must rise to all heavenly things, 
Ah, yes, I must mount up to God upon wings. 

When I shall at last in my coffin be laid, 
And the hand of death's angel forever is stayed, 
When in dust I shall lie, and forgott'n shall be, 
Yet still in my flesh the blest Savior I'll see. 

I'll slumber in silence, forgotten by all, 

And the pearl of the night shall over me fall, 

The grasses shall wave and the clouds shall unfurl 
Over my silent bed in this sinful world. 



54 SUNBEAMS. 



But the River of Life, where the angels lave, 
Shall wander at last to the depths of the grave, 
And my body will touch with its magic springs, 
Then, rising, I'll fly to the Savior on wings. 




DEATH. 



ST has been truly said that the three sweetest words 
®^ in human speech are Mother, Home and Heaven 
— sweetest because of the happy associations cluster- 
ing around them. But if we were called upon to se- 
lect the one word having the most of mystery w T ithin 
it and associated with it, that word should be Death. 
Though surrounded by mystery, with clouds of gloom, 
and the awe of the grave, yet I think we may learn 
much of its meaning from the vegetable productions of 
the earth. The tender twig first appears and rapidly 
unfolds under the pure sunlight of heaven, till a swell- 
ing bud begins to burst, through which the softly-tinted 
petals of a beautiful flower begin to peep, which, as if 
by magic, bursts into glory. But soon these lovely 
things wither, and fade, and fall, and we feel as if our 
fond pride and joy was forever blasted. Now, care- 
fully scrutinizing the — to us — ruinous event, lo, the 
wonderful truth flashes upon us that these rainbow- 
tinted leaves were but the gorgeous canopy which na- 
ture spread around the tender fruit to shield it from 
the withering frosts till it should grow older and able 
to grow unprotected in the open light of God. Thus 
the death of the flower is but the removal of that 
which is not only useless now but an actual hindrance 
to the perfection and maturity of the fruit. So, I re- 
joice to think, it is with our humanity. The body is 



56 



SUNBEAMS. 



given as a protection and a means of development to 
the "inward man," until the fullness of its time ar- 
rives, when it is put aside, as a worn-out garment, 
while the "inward man," the fruit, unfolds unto per- 
fection in the holy calm and under the transforming 
power of the perfect day. 




^0^% 



HE IS RISEN. 



ITH the swiftness of lightning, at close of the night, 

Came an angel from heaven, in garments of white, 

To the tomb where the Savior was shrouded in gore, 

And the bravest and strongest of Rome watched the 

door. 

0, fearless and fierce, as a thunderbolt given, 
Was that messenger, sent from the gateway of heaven ; 
At the shaking of earth, and the sign in the sky, 
And the gleamings of light at each flash of his eye. 

The bravest hearts quailed, and the soldiers gave way, 
And the stone he hurled back, as a child at its play ; 

With the quickness of thought, and with power 
sublime, 

Jesus rent the dark pall that covered all time. 

He broke the strong chain that had fettered the race, 
And his glorious presence still hallows its place, 
But away to bright realms, on a fetterless wing, 
Soared the crucified Lord — but all-conquering King. 

All the legions of heaven his coming did wait, 
To triumphantly shout as he neared the bright gate ; 
Whom they welcomed within, and appointed a seat — 
For all heaven and earth must soon bow at his feet. 



-~- > >-^rS— - 



IMPERFECTION ON EARTH. 



ST has teen said that of countless millions of leaves 
®^ falling in autumn time, not a single perfect one 
has been found. Not a single spear of grass, however 
beautiful it may appear to the careless observer, but 
what, if closely scrutinized, bears some defect. Not 
one of all the delightful flowers of the field that is 
perfect in all its parts. When we turn our attention 
to the finest piece of art that man has ever produced, 
we meet the same humiliating fact still more apparent. 
The finest painting, when greatly magnified, looks 
almost hideous. When we retire at last within our- 
selves, and view the workings of our own hearts, we 
are reminded that we ourselves are not perfect. Our 
happiness is only relative and mingled with some sor- 
row of heart. When we are bus} 7 with our hands our 
hearts are holding sweet converse with some darling 
one long since dead, whose voice, save in memory, is 
hushed forever on earth. "They are not lost but gone 
before. 7 ' They rise before us at ever) 7 step of our lives. 
"Of life they form a part." They meet us at the gate 
with loving smiles and gentle kisses on our return 
from the toil of the day. They clasp us about the 
neck and charm our hearts with their bewitching love. 
Their deeds of kindness we unconsciously remember 
and link them inseparably with the angels of God and 
heaven. But then the bitter, bitter thought returns 






SUNBEAMS. 59 



that they are mouldering in the grave. Ah ! yes, we 
saw them and watched the rosy tinge fade from their 
cheeks as they met the destroyer ; we heard their last 
faint words ; stood by their couch when all was over. 
We kissed their cold, pale forehead, lips, and snow- 
white hands again and again ; we saw them lowered 
by gentle, loving hands to their last ted and rest in the 
gloom of the grave, where they mingle to dust in that 
quiet abode. Then with weary footsteps and broken 
heart we tread our way homeward, almost unconscious 
of the beauties of nature along our way. And when 
we enter the house everything reminds us of the loved 
one gone. The silent room, the little playthings, the 
carefully treasured lock of hair, the dear, priceless 
photograph, each, all, tell us in language more forcible 
than speech of the pure joy lost to us here and of the 
deep sorrow now felt and that must be felt until we, 
too, go to our graves. 0, whjr must all the beautiful, 
the pure, the lovely die and leave us only the gloom 
after the light. All of the most beautiful things in 
nature the soonest fade. The rainbow no sooner ap- 
pears and gladdens the eye with its radiant foldings 
than it is gone, and instead the great, gloomy cloud 
winding and twisting its tremendous folds like moun- 
tains tossed by unseen giant hands. The rose blooms 
only for a few days, and we reach out our hand to 
pluck it and enjoy its fragrance when lo, the dropping 
leaves fill our hand or fall noiselessly to the ground and 
lie scattered in ruins about our feet. The most de- 
lightful stillness and quietude in the elements is fol- 



60 SUNBEAMS. 



lowed by the earthquake and the march of death. The 
most beautiful of our children and friends of to-day 
become the pale and stiffened corpses of to-morrow. 
"All that live and breathe must share their destiny." 
"In the midst of life we are in death." Now, the de- 
sign of all this imperfection, it seems to us, is to cre- 
ate within us a deep yearning for a perfect home 
with perfect surroundings. But while travelling 
along this weary way, most strange to say, the un- 
mingled cup of joy is ever just ahead, but when we 
grasp it and raise it eagerly to our lips, maddened by 
disappointment we dash it from us and grasp another 
only to be deceived. This genius within us, so often 
crushed, yet never discouraged nor destroyed, tells us 
too plainly to be mistaken of the insufficiency of earth 
to satisfy it and of the certainty of a place where not 
one gem of joy shall ever fade in the deep, pure sun- 
light of heaven. 



' W J ^ 



LITTLE GRACIE, 



|gj|NE little voice is silent now — 
As sweet as e'er was heard ; 
I know not why God gave, nor how, 
Such sweetness to that bird. 

She came — an angel sent from heaven — 

As pure as dewdrops fall ; 
Her w r ords were pure as moonbeams given, 

And she was loved by all. 

Her brow was decked with richest hair, 
And dark and bright her eyes ; 

She w T as so matchless, pure and fair, 
God took her to the skies. 

It was not best that she should stay 

In this dark world of sin, 
For angels oped the shining way 

And called her spirit in, 

Where now, beside the throne of w T hite, 

Beneath the living tree, 
Without a trace of coming night, 

She waiteth still for me. 

Amidst the robes that ever shine, 
Without a spot or stain, 



62 SUNBEAMS. 

There is none brighter there than mine 
In all that sinless train. 

0, when I reach the pearly strand, 

And cross beyond the sea, 
I'll clasp her fondly by the hand 

And ever with her be. 

Together we will often roam, 

Adown the golden street, 
To view the glories of our home 

That God has made so sweet. 

For aye within that home of love, 

Beneath the stainless sky, 
We'll reign with millions up above, 

Where none shall ever die ; 

Where forms shall glide, as dreams of light, 
Through shining streets of gold, 

And be reflected clear and bright 
From crystal walls untold. 

No mark of time shall mar the brow, 
Nor tinge the eye with shade ; 

Within that land none ever bow 
Beneath the weight of age. 

There, all are wrapt in sweetest joy ; 

Are young, and pure, and free ; 
The Savior's praises all employ 

In one long jubilee. 



SUNBEAMS. 



63 



Lord, help us, that when we shall rise 
From mouldering beds of clay, 

To cleave with wings of light the skies. 
And reign in endless day. 




SOME MISTAKES OP MOSES. : 



■=J 



few years ago a wonderful took, written by a won- 
derful man, made its appearance in this world of 
thought and age of books. Flaming forth upon its 
title page are these startling words : "Some Mistakes 
of Moses," w T hich would be much more significant and 
truthful- — "Some Mistakes of Ingersoll." Now it be- 
hooves a man who makes such extraordinary preten- 
tions to present something else in proof of them than 
ridicule and the shafts of wit. This author, however, 
has nothing else to offer against religion as taught in 
the bible, and therefore his continual effort in this line. 
This wonderful book — wonderful only in its ridicule — 
startles us with this question : u Can we believe that 
the inspired writer had any idea of the size of the 
sun?" Here, as in many other places in his lectures, 
this splendid free (?) thinker and thrilling lecturer im- 
plies, with emphasis, that the Mosaic record of crea- 
tion is not of God, because it does not give the minute 
history and details of astronomy and geology, botany 
and physiology. His argument here may all be 
summed up as follows : If God had given to man a 
revelation, it would have explained to him everything 
that is necessary for the race to know from its cradle 
to its grave. But instead we have a revelation adapted 
to man as he is instead of as he w T ould like for man to 
be. Now if this objection has any bearing against 



SUNBEAMS. 65 



- 



revelation as found in the bible, it bears equally 
against the constitution of man, for a revelation that 
made known all things which man might wish to 
know in this world, to be adapted to man on earth, 
it must find man without any such attribute as inquisi- 
tiveness. Now this attribute he certainly has ; there- 
fore, such a revelation would not be adapted to man as 
he is. He utterly ignores the fundamental fact — else 
never knew it — that the whole scheme of redemption 
has for its object one grand aim, viz : A reformation 
of the moral man, a regeneration of the heart, and, 
through it, the outward life. God erected his empire 
in the hearts of men upon one word — faith. A chris- 
tian life, then, is simply belief in action. What rela- 
tion, we ask, does the size of the sun bear to the 
greatest of all great questions — a pure life? Verily, 
as much as the wheel of a locomotive to Windsor 
Castle, or Mr. Ingersoli's heart to an iceberg. 

Again, he asks : "Did he know that the sun was 
enveloped in an ocean of fire, thousands of miles in 
depth, hotter even than the christian's hell, over which 
sweep tempests of flame, moving at the rate of one 
hundred miles a second, compared with which the 
wildest storm that ever wrecked the forests of this 
world was but a calm." [Page 73.] 

Here again we find him in his favorite field of ac- 
tion. He seizes the most mysterious and unknown 
things and argues from them as if they were the 
simplest things in nature. If you will take the care 
to read any one of his series of offensive adjectives, 



66 



SUNBEAMS. 



which he calls lectures, and mark each page and para- 
graph where he assumes the whole matter in debate, 
and also each particular place where he substitutes his 
unsupported assertion for proof upon the gravest 
things, you will be utterly surprised to find how little 
will be left. When he tauntingly asked the above 
question it was done to cast opprobrium upon the 
bible ; but it remains to be shown that Moses made 
any mistake concerning the appearance of the sun, 
or, indeed, any other phenomenon of nature. We 
must remember that he was not writing a treatise on 
science, but detailing the successive steps of creation, 
as they appeared to an eye witness, or, as they would 
have appeared to the eye. 

Again, if Moses did know "that the sun is en- 
veloped in an ocean of fire," he knew more than Mr. 
Ingersoll or any other scientist of this late and scien- 
tific age. Indeed, we do not know of a respectable 
scientist who dares to speak other than most modestly 
upon this theme. In fact, some of the ablest scientists 
of the present time, writing through Wilford's Micro- 
cosm, take position, with great show of reason, too, 
that the sun is a cold body. Such men as compared 
with whom, Mr. Ingersoll is the veriest pigmy in in- 
tellectual ability, depth of research and literary 
knowledge. He states these things so positively that 
some, especially the young and those who have not the 
time and ability to investigate them, are led to believe 
as he declaims. I sometimes wonder if it ever oc- 
curred to him how utterly useless the human race 



SUNBEAMS. 



07 



- 



would be if God had made a revelation of everything 
that they might ever wish to know. The faculty which 
gives the impetus to all the arts and sciences, inven- 
tions and discoveries of all kinds and characters, 
w T hether in mechanics or literature, would be thereby 
rendered a useless incumbrance. This faculty, which 
is unceasing in its operations all along the life of the 
individual, manifesting itself in the discovery of the 
electric telegraph, the electric light, the telescope, the 
microscope, the telephone, the microphone, the audi- 
phone, and a thousand more. If he had hold of the 
helm he would have obviated all this hurry and worry, 
this push and strain of the brain, by revealing the 
whole thing ; yes, he would. But the one thing that 
troubles him supremely is the truth of the bible. 
He would have every child born into this world be- 
gin his career fully armed and equipped with a com- 
plete knowledge of all the arts and sciences. Or, per- 
chance, he would have greased a rainbow and slipped 
them down into this w r orld already full-grown angels. 
He would have us believe that when a man in endued 
with the Holy Spirit, or inspired, he must of necessity 
be all-wise or know everything in the universe by vir- 
tue thereof. But this show 7 s us how little he knows of 
the great book of God. 

Jesus said : "When He (the Comforter) is come, 
He shall bring to your remembrance all things what- 
soever I have said unto you." 

The object then of inspiration was to remind the 
disciples of all the w T ords of Jesus to them, and give 



68 * SUNBEAMS. 



to the apostles miraculous powers to prove the divinity 
of their mission to the world. He jeeringly asks of 
the bible : "Is it inspired? If true, it don't need to 
be inspired." In this, also, he reveals to us his shallow 
conception of inspiration, or rather great want of 
knowledge, for inspiration was not given to men to 
enable them to tell the truth, but to prevent the possi- 
bility of mistakes. Moses says just so much about 
the physical creation as we need to know, as related to 
the beginning of the human race, and no more, leaving 
much, very much useful knowledge to be discovered 
by human investigation and research. AH the time 
that infidel scientists, mad against the Lord's an- 
nointed, are pushing their researches into every pos- 
sible recess of nature's vast arcana they are rolling up 
a mountain of evidence which neither they nor their 
successors can ever climb over. In all this vast reach 
of evidence not a single line or scrap has been found 
to militate against the truth of the bible. Surely, "He 
makes even the wrath of the wicked to praise Him." 

Moses was neither called nor sent to teach the 
people the science of the physical world, but the moral 
and spiritual ; to give a truthful history of the origin, 
development and historical progress of the human 
race. These he has portrayed a thousand fold more 
minutely and faithfully than any revolutionized evo- 
lutionized skeptic of the present day has done, or — I 
hesitate not to assert — ever .will* do ; notwithstanding 
he may have known nothing of the developments of 
science, as known even to the school boys of the pres- 



J 



SUNBEAMS. 



69 



ent day. We are exceedingly curious to know what 
scientist of respectable and noted ability authorized 
him to state so positively that "The sun is enveloped 
in an ocean of fire thousands of miles in depth and 
hotter even than the christian's hell," etc. I am not 
aware that the bible tells us how hot hell is, neither do 
I know of any teaching therein showing it to be in any 
sense the property or possession of, or in any way re- 
lated to the christians. Jesus says it was "prepared 
for the devil and his angels — those who do his will, 
whether they be fallen spirits or men in the flesh." He 
would better change his phraseology to the following : 
"Hotter even than the sinner's hell." But this writer, 
together with all his class, prate exceedingly much 
about science. Now it might be a matter of some 
moment for them to call a halt and recover their 
breath while we attend to this matter to some extent. 
Let us then ask the true import of science. We find 
that it comes from scientia, from scio — to know. 
From any series of facts, or supposed facts, to assume 
the dignified title and rank of a science they must be 
certainly known, after which they must be systemati- 
cally arranged and classified. Let me then impress 
upon the reader here the great necessity of a certain 
knowledge of the facts of nature, without which we 
have no material of which to construct a science. You 
see how unjust it is to call the rambling conjectures, 
assumptions and speculations of such men as Darwin, 
Beecher and Ingersoll — science ; especially when they 
tell us, with all the dignity of one narrating a fact 



70 



SUNBEAMS. 



demonstrated a thousand times, of ''tempests of flame 
sweeping over the surface of the sun at the incon- 
ceivable velocity of a hundred miles a second and 
thousands of miles in depth." Just a little grain of 
proof would strengthen us wonderfully just here, the 
absence of which is painfully unpleasant, especially as 
we are called on to give it our unqualified faith and 
reverence, instead of our time-honored, saint-loved 
bibles ; the book which has stood intact the fiery 
blasts of adversaries during almost its entire existence ; 
but even now there are millions who would die for 
their love of it and devotion to its teachings, to say 
nothing of the millions who have died for their faith 
in its principles ; the book 

Which all nature's tongues proclaim divine, 
On every page of which God's glories shine. 



No matter how frail the foundation on which the 
statement of a scientist rests — so it seems to militate 
against the bible and the church of Christ — there 
are thousands who are instantly ready to proclaim it 
all over the earth with a great flourish of trumpets ; 
but, on the other hand, no matter how clearly and 
pointedly the truth of God's book is proven to them 
they will not believe. Mr. Ingersoll puts an imaginary 
case, which has no foundation in the bible nor in the 
mind of any intelligent christian, and then asks : 
"Who can believe such a thing? But I suppose I'll 
be damned if I don't and I'll be damned if I do." 



SUNBEAMS. 71 



The only way, it seems to me, of accounting for this 
strange phenomenon in men who are wise in the mat- 
ters of worldly things, is the Savior's own solution of 
it : "They love darkness rather than light, because 
their deeds are evil." Notice the argument here : 
Their lives are such that they know a just God con- 
demns, and for this reason only they seek darkness 
and even shun the light. 

Kind reader, it is a solemn belief of the author of 
this book that if you will search the history of each 
bold infidel you will find many evil deeds culminating, 
it may be, in some one great evil w T hich, to cover up, 
they strive long and hard to obliterate the bible, and 
thereby banish all knowledge of the just retribution of 
the God who says, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay." 




MY GRAVE. 



|j|OONER or later the moon shall shine, 
With silvery light, on shrub and vine, 
And, silently, wreaths of light shall twine 
All over that silent bed of mine. 

Sooner or later the sun shall rise, 
And anew the earth in gold baptize ; 
To renew the tread of myriad feet 
That trample above my winding sheet. 

Sooner or later the storms will beat 
Over the place where I -rest in sleep, 
And deluge the earth in sheets of rain, 
To waken the spring and birds again. 

Sooner or later the stars shall fly, 
Like silvery cars across the sky — 

As angels, wrapt in the heav'nly light, 
Who speed along in a rapid flight. 

Sooner or later, at dead of night, 
They'll over me scatter floods of light ; 
As on they sweep with fetterless wing, 
Ceaseless and sweet is the song they sing. 

Sooner or later the bow of peace 
Shall over me arch from west to east — 



SUNBEAMS. 



73 



That sacred sign, to christians given, 
Of final rest with. Christ in heaven. 

Sooner or later, with sweet perfume, 
The buds shall over my chamber bloom, 
To bow with the dewdrops' sparkle near, 
And over me shed the crystal tear. 

Sooner or later the clouds shall sweep, 
As mighty waves, all over the deep, 

High over the mound that marks the spot 
Wherein I shall sleep and be forgot. 

The eve will come, with bannered west, 
And say, "Ye weary ones, go to rest ;" 
But to the coffin that rests below 
It will send no thrill of joy or woe. 

Sooner or later the Son will plead, 
Before the throne, my terrible need ; 

While angels, sent through the riven skies. 

Shall with joyful hope my soul surprise. 

Sooner or later a boat will come, 
With silent oars, to carry me home ; 
I will reach the place where unseen feet 
x\re ever treading the golden street. 

In the soft sheen of that fading eve, 
When the Son shall grant his last reprieve, 
The boatman shall plash his silv'ry oar 
And bear me away to the unseen shore. 

10 



SUNBEAMS. 



Sooner or later, upon that shore, 

We'll tread the halls of the mansion o'er ; 

We will hear the Savior's, welcome home. 

As one by one the ransomed come. 

Sooner or later a robe of white, 
A home of beauty and crown of light, 
A palm of victory, flashing fair. 
Shall each belong to the spirits there. 




IX MEMORIAM. 



FRANKLIN H. CRANDALL. 



JtRANKLlN H., son of Kenyon Crandall of Hills- 
boro, Washington county, Oregon, was drowned 
in the Tualatin river, near Cornelius, August 23, 1885. 
The corpse was brought to Hillsboro the same day. 
The following day it was borne to the Christian 
church, where w 7 e preached his funeral sermon to a 
very large and tearful audience. The floral offerings 
were profuse upon his grave, and very beautiful. 
While they were being gently placed above his bed we 
read the following poem as touchingly true in his 
case — for he was a good boy : 

We stand by the grave of the silent dead, 

And mingle our tears around his bed ; 

Down, far under the ground, we now have laid 
The form in the image of God once made. 

Now lay on his grave the fairest flowers — 
Which God shall moisten with dews and showers — 
The beautiful flowers, so newly born, 
Bright emblems are of the rising morn ; 

For they, coming up from under the ground, 
Rise to glory at a single bound ; 

So he shall arise from a bed so cold, 

And dwell at once in a home of gold ; 



76 SUNBEAMS. 



Where the river of life, with waves so clear, 
Ne'er mingles its waters with a tear, 

And the groves of beauty, its banks along, 

Are ringing ever with sweetest song ; 

Where the beautiful saints, with crowns of light, 

Are robed in garments of snowy white, 
And angels, as fair as the sweetest dream, 
Shall go and come as the lightning's gleam. 

Now, mantled in dust and asleep in clay, 
His body shall wait the rising day, 

When Christ shall speak from his throne in the sky, 

And gather his jewels each on high. 




A THOUGHT AT SUNSET. 



JfAST night I sat me by the door, 
^ And watched the sinking sun, 
While thoughts came thronging o'er and o'er- 
"My work will soon be done." 

So when at last he sank within 

A golden ocean's wave, 
I thought how bright his course had been 

To reach this golden grave. 

And so, methought, that when I die, 

Mav I not cease to shine, 
But, falling prostrate, sweetly lie 

Amid the light divine. 



IN MEMORIAM. 



ERNEST STEWART. 



IJKRNJEST, son of John Ben Stewart, who resides near 
Reedville, died August 17, 1885, of sunstroke, 
after two days suffering, aged 2 years and 12 days. 
We preached his funeral sermon in the M. E. church 
in Hillsboro, on the 18th of August, from which the 
corpse was followed to the Masonic cemetery, west of 
here, by a large train of mourners and sympathizing 
friends. When the little corpse was covered in its 
native dust, while the grave was being covered with 
bouquets, floral crosses and snowy wreaths, we read 
the following poem, composed for the occasion : 

Our words alone can not express 

The feelings of the heart, 
In such an hour of deep distress, 

When friends are forced to part. 



When one has passed the shadow arch 

And gone his way alone — 
Filed into the spirit army's march, 

Up to the great white throne. 

We mingle here our offerings fair — 

The purest gift of God — 
And raise to him a solemn prayer 

To guard this silent sod. 



SUNBEAMS. 



'9 



Softly, as' nightfall brings the dew. 

We lay these flowers down, 
Above a heart that is as pure 

As any glory-crowned. 

One link is severed from the chain 

Of holy ties on earth, 
And one is added o'er the main 

As pure as e'er had birth. 

We leave the corpse within the hand 
That rules the kingdom dead, 

Assured that he again shall stand, 
And glory crown his head. 




I WISH I WERE IN HEAVEN. 



9| wish I were in heaven, within the pearly gates, 
^ With all my sins forgiven, where my dear Savior 
waits ; 
Beside the crystal fountains of life's unmingled 

stream, 
To lead me up the mountain — fair as the wildest 
dream. 

I wish I were in heaven, all robed in spotless white, 
With crown and sceptre given, where falls no gloomy 
night, 
With myriads bathed in blood and cleansed from 

every stain — 
There I'd praise the Father good and ever there 
remain. 

I wish I were in heaven, beneath the crystal dome, 
Within the beauteous rainbow forever round the 
throne ; 
I wish I were in heaven, where lightnings never play 
Across the darkened heavens — but shines eternal day. 

I wish I were in heaven, where death shall never spread 
The land with sundered friendships nor strew the 
plains with dead ; 
I wish I were in heaven, where crystal waters play, 
Outgushing from the fountain where white-robed 
angels stray. 



SUNBEAMS. 



81 



I wish I were in heaven, to join the loved ones there — 
Who from my arms were riven and left me in 
despair — 

I wish I were in heaven, beside the tree of life, 
Within the glorious number who have eternal life. 




1 1 



IN MEMORIAM. 



WILSON FREDERICK GRABEL. 



i 1 1 HILE Mrs. Jasper Grabel was enjoying a few days 
at Wilhoit Springs her little boy, Wilson Fred- 
erick, aged 1 year, 6 months and 17 days, took sick. 
While the parents were hastening home with him he 
grew rapidly worse, and when they were about twelve 
miles from home they were compelled to stop at a 
wayside house where death quickly came to the relief 
of the little sufferer, July 28th, 1885, after an illness 
of only about three days. On the 29th we gently laid 
his beautiful spotless form to sleep in dust among the 
silent ones reposing there. 

All language is but weakness now 

Our sorrow deep to tell : 
Beneath the hand of God we bow. 

Who doeth all things well. 

Thy silver laugh no more shall cheer 

A mother's weary heart. 
But heaven's music shall appear 

The sweeter for thy part. 

We know not why the Father gave. 
Nor why He called thee there — 

Consigned thy body to the grave. 
Despite a mother's prayer. 



SUNBEAMS. 



83 



With all the love we hear for thee 
We would not call thee here, 

For thou art now forever free 
Where sorrow wakes no tear. 

In sorrow we would bear the pain, 

Until our latest breath, 
Nor have thee here to tread again 

The thorny path of death. 

Far down the deep defile of shade, 

Beneath the mystic rod, 
The Savior's hand was on thee laid 

And bore thee up to God. 

His loving, gentle care shall keep 
Each spotless lamb above ; 

He giveth His beloved sleep 
Within His arms of love. 



** 



THE CHRISTIAN'S GRAVE 



COMPOSED IN 1868. 



tcome to the spot where the winds softly sweep 
O'er the form that lies resting forever in sleep ; 
When in memory's mirror that loved one I see 
Who, past the dark river, is waiting for me. 

O'erarching the place is the rainbow sublime — 
First painted by angels in th' morning of time ; 
Methinks 'tis the arch where his spirit may rest 
In flight from the earth to the home of the blest. 

He arose on wings, as the eagles of heaven, 
And passed to the home of the spotless, forgiven ; 
He crossed the deep river and heard the sweet tone 
Of the glorious in Jesus around the white throne. 

He reached the fair city and passed through the door, 
And plucked the bright flowers that bloom on that 
shore ; 
He was bathed in that fountain that cleanseth from 

sin, 
Hence the Savior has welcomed, thrice welcomed 
him in. 



-^V^^r-^- 



IN MEMORIAM. 



LINES IN MEMORY OF ELLA AND DAISY CAMPBELL, WHO 
DIED IN BETHEL, OR., FEBRUARY, 1877. 



Iff WO angels walked beside us here, 

For a brief summer's day, 
And gladdened every hour drear 
With their sweet childish play. 

Ah, they were not of earthly mould, 

But destined for the sky, 
To walk the shining streets of gold, 

Where none shall ever die. 

For soon, too soon, an angel bright, 
Came down the shining way, 

To gather them to realms of light, 
And loose them from the clay. 

We bent above their little bed, 
And cooled their fevered brow, 

Rememb'ring that the Savior said, 
"Such is my kingdom now." 

O.ne last embrace, a farewell kiss, 
And life's brief day was o'er ; 

For heaven added to its bliss 
Two angel voices more. 



86 SUNBEAMS. 

We laid our darlings down to rest, 

In robes of spotless white, 
Until the Savior comes, all blest, 

To break the tomb's dark night. 

The grass will grow above their beds, 
Sweet roses there w r ill blow, 

And nature o'er their graves wdll shed 
A robe of virgin snow. 

The sun shall backward o'er them glance 
His myriad beams of light, 

And here his gentle waves shall dance 
To kiss their graves good night. 

The moon shall pour a silver tide, 
Of white and pearly waves, 

Upon the spot where, side by side, 
Are dug their little graves. 

A bright and burning train of stars 

Above their vigils keep, 
While not a cloud of darkness mars 

The sweetness of their sleep. 

Xow, too, the rainbow o'er it spans 
That pledge of surest grace ; 

'Tis but the writing of God's hand — 
The shadow of his face. 

The time shall come when armies bright, 
With dazzling wings unfurled, 



SUNBEAMS. 



With words of joy and robes of light 
Shall wake a buried world ; 

Then from these lowly beds shall rise. 

All shining in his might. 
Two little angels for the skies, 

To reign in endless light. 




WHY NOT? 



IJf'HIS Sabbath day, as the soft winds sigh, 
I clamber up to the deep blue sky, 
And softly peer through the gates of pearl 
At the sparkling gems of another world ; 

Where the robes of white, like drifted snow 
On mountain tops in this world of woe, 
All sparkling flash in the crystal sea, 
Washed in the blood that was shed for me. 

While passing on, in the light divine, 
I gather slips from each fragrant vine 
That clusters about the narrow way 
Which leadeth unto the perfect day. 

I ceaselessly watch that they may bide 
The withering frosts that fall this side ; 
I want to plant them beyond the tomb 
Where naught shall fade their wonderful bloom 




IX MEMORIAM. 



OFTLY, as nightfall settles down, 
Or purling waters lave, 
So we place this floral crown 
Upon her new-made grave. 

Love's fingers wove this sweet bouquet. 

To lay upon her bed, 
Suggestive of a fairer day 

When none shall mourn their dead. 

We give her to a loving God — 

All but our deathless love — 
We would not bury 'neath the sod 

That sweetest tie above. 

Love oft shall wander to this spot, 

To weep and pray alone, 
But tears of blood shall call her not 

Back from the Savior's throne. 

We must press on, though tears and pain 

Confront us on the way, 
If we would meet the loved again 

Whose bodies sleep in clay. 

This floral gift — our last farewell — 

A silent prayer shall be 
That joys, no angel tongue can tell, 

Be thine eternally. 

12 



LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM 



DESCRIPTIVE OF A PICTURE ON THE OPPOSITE PAGE, 

AND AT THE SAME TIME EXPRESSES THE 

AUTHOR'S WISHES FOR HIS FRIEND. 



ffHIS snowy white page is an emblem rare 



Of one that is kept for thee over there. 
Where the hills of God and the vales between 
Are varied with flowers and ever green. 

This charming picture, of delicate size, 
Is an emblem faint of His paradise .; 
This towering wall is a symbol free 
Of the living rock that was cleft for thee. 

The trees here growing so verdant and rife - 
Are beautiful types of the tree of life ; 

The house here raised on the sloping green 
Suggests the mansion forever unseen. 

When thou shalt at last be summoned to die. 
Go fearlessly forth as this bird in the sky ; 
Jesus will bid you sit down on His throne. 
If thou art true till thy journey is done. 



ty«~ 



IN MEMORIAM. 



WILLIS LAUGHLIN. 



tender and sweet were the words he said — 
That youth of the gentle mein — 
As he neared the home of the silent dead 
And the river that rolls between. 

His father, he said, would follow him soon — 

His mother had gone before — 
Where the sun shall never go down at noon, 

And partings come nevermore ; 

Where orphans shall ne'er in sorrowing die 

'Mid strangers afar from home, 
And none for father and mother shall sigh, 

But sit on his glorious throne. 

As he heard the waves of the river beat, 

And the angels softly call, 
He thought of the mansion so grand and sweet 

For the sinless, one and all. 

The gathering light of eternity shone 

In his eyes of tender blue, 
For over his spirit the heavenly dawn 

Poured full as the veil withdrew. 






92 



SUNBEAMS. 



0, tender and sweet were the words we said, 
In the evening's gathering sheen, 

As we tenderly smoothed his narrow bed 
'Mong the trees of evergreen. 










THROUGH THE VALLEY OF DEATH. 



,jj| Y the side of his beautiful darling 

He's sleeping the sleep of the dead, 
And I know that they both shall awaken, 
For Jesus that promise has made. 

By the side of the deep rushing river, 
That runs through the valley of shade. 

As the autumn leaves rustle and quiver 
The last of his journey was made. 

In the path that shines brightly — but narrow 
Straight on through the valley he sped, 

With a beautiful spirit beside him 
Who heard every word that he said. 

When so close to the edge of the water 
That spray to their garments did cling, 

Then his Guide did not murmur nor falter — 
For He of that valley is King. 

When the darkness came over his vision, 
And thundered the river between 

The dark borders of sin and derision 
And pastures that ever are green, 

By his side He kept ever repeating, 
In words of assurance most dear, 

" 'Tis the time for thy soul to be reaping 
In gladness the seed sown in tears." 



IN MEMORIAM. 



C. R. MORGAN. 



fifHE following poem was recited at the funeral of 
C. R. Morgan, father of J. J. and J. W. Morgan, 
of Hillsboro, Washington County, Or., to whose worthy 
memory we sacredly dedicate it : 

I love to think of the sweet surprise 
That waits the christian when he dies ; 
For the Jordan cleft from shore to shore 
Shall give him quiet passage o'er. 

The gathering waters up the stream 
Shall prove as harmless as a dream, 
Until his feet in triumph tread 
Beyond the realm where sleep the dead. 

I love to think of the Canaan fair — 
The land beyond the hope of prayer — 

The beautiful home of souls complete 

Worshiping at the Savior's feet. 

I love to think of his heart's sweet chime, 

As lovingly it keeps the time 

That gives to home its fondest spell 
And whispers softly "All is well." 






z& 






OLD AGE. 



g|rHE evening time of life shall shine 

In fadeless beauty where 
The spirit form in peace divine 
Reaches its sunset fair. 

The storm has into silence fled, 

A rainbow spans the sky 
Along the line between the dead 

And those who soon must die. 

The mystic hand of faith, so fair, 

A magic robe has wrought, 
As pure as snowdrops in the air, 

Of words, and deeds, and thought. 

Life has worn its robe of green 
And borne its wreath of flowers 

Through summer's heat and autumn's sheen 
As well as winter's showers. 

And now its fruit is ripe and fair. 

Among the tinted leaves, 
Telling the angels, like a prayer, 

To gather in the sheaves. 

So, one by one, they pass the vale 

And softly fade away 
As sunbeams vanish from the dale 

When night succeeds the day. 



IN MEMORIAM. 



RECITED IN FUNERAL SERMON OF C. R. MORGAN, APRIL 
18, 1886, IN M. E. CHURCH, HILLSBORO, OR. 



fjjj|0 to thy last and sweetest sleep, 

Thou fallen victor, go ! 
Though loving children round thee weep 
Their bitter tears of woe. 



As sweetly falls the twilight calm, 
When day's long reign has died, 

And silence comes with healing balm 
O'er earth and sea beside ; 

As stars shine out, when shadows fall, 

More lovely than the day, 
For heaven's peace reigns over all 

With strange and mystic sway. 

So thou hast borne the armor bright, 
Through all life's changeful sway, 

But cast it down when on thy sight 
Broke forth "the perfect day." 



LOVE REIGNED. 



|tOR countless years ere time began, 
^ Or suns' fixed centres stood. 
Or comets sped through pathless skies- 
Swift messengers of God — 
Love reigned. 

Ere planets rolled their golden wheels- 
Swift chariots of the night — 

Ere angels watched in wonder deep 
The mystic beams of light — 
Love reigned. 

Long ere the fountains of the sea 
Burst forth from chaos deep. 

Or infant fair on mother's breast 
Fell sweetly into sleep — 
Love reigned. 

While yet the earth no tenants had, 

Nor ocean deep, nor air, 
And all the universe was peace, 

Nor knew the need of prayer — 
Love reigned. 

When the almighty fiat broke 

Th ? eternal reign of night, 
And mercy's voice so sweetly spoke 

These words, "Let there be light" — 
Love reigned. 

13 



98 



SUNBEAMS. 



Long ages ere the morning stars 

All sang their anthem sweet, 
When eve in graceful beauty knelt 

At her creator's feet — 

Love reigned. 

Long ere God's sons their gladness spoke. 

In that one matchless strain. 
That sweetly through the silence broke 

In heavenly refrain — 

Love reigned. 

When wise men sought the new-born child 

As westward came their feet. 
And angel hosts o'er Judas' hills 

Proclaimed the tidings sweet — 
Love reigned. 

Throughout the gloom that sin has spread 

His silvery voice was heard. 
And told of life beyond the dead 

In one sweet magic word. 
Love reigned. 

Through all the ages yet to be 

Her reign shall be complete. 
And countless thousands yet shall fly 

To their Redeemer's feet. 
Love reigns. 






IN MEMORIAM. 



HEAD AT THE BURIAL OF JESSE E. DAILEY. 



ENTLY, softly lay on his grave 
Flowers of delicate hue — 
Purest gift of th' mighty to save — 
Love's fondest, fairest adieu. 

Emblems of light over the way, 
Where souls immortal shall tread 

Unsullied and bright, is that day 
Beyond the sleep of the dead ; 

Where spirits shall wander in joy, 
Through dells of purest delight, 

Unmingled with sorrow's alloy, 
Through all eternity's flight. 

The grass shall long flourish and wave 

Here over the silent mound ; 
The matchless power of Christ shall save 

His dust from under the ground. 

Softly, gently lay on his grave 

Flowers of delicate hue — 
Purest gift of th' mighty to save — 

Love's fondest, latest adieu. 



VOICES. 



|gf HERE are whisperings in the air to-night, 

There are voices soft and low 
That come from the sunlit land of light 
Where the pure in heart shall go. 

They come from the beautiful sunbright plain, 

Far over the jasper sea ; 
Their Avhisperings tell me over again 

Of a home prepared for me. 

There was one I knew in my boyish glee 

That's gone far over the tide, 
With a wing that is tireless, bold and free — 

She is by the Savior's side. 

They tell of another sweet form divine, 

That vanished as rainbows fade ; 
How oft in my visions I called her mine — 

But those hopes have all decayed. 

They tell of the vow that she pledged me there. 

As I knelt beside her feet — 
'Twas beneath the shade, in the open air. 

That we held this council sweet. 

For there was no ear that could hear but mine- 
Save the open ear of God ; 



SUNBEAMS. 101 



How often I've thought of her words divine 
Since she "passed under the rod." 

Thus, over and over, again and again, 

They tell of my joy and woe ; 
As soft as the silver light on the plain 

They speak of the long ago. 

They speak of graves that were dug by the way 

And hallowed by evening prayer, 
Of joys, that vanished as bubbles as play, 

Or meteors flashing fair. 

But they have not gone — they ever are mine — 

Of my life they form a part, 
For I live with them in the hidden shrine 

Deep down in the faithful heart. 

Aye, they shall be mine while the throne of white 

Shall stand on the other side, 
Untouched by the gloom of a single night, 

Far over the crystal tide. 

I hail with rapture each whisper of love 

That comes from the mystic past, 
For, off from my heart, they gather above 

The shadows that darken fast. 

As the lightnings gleam from a darkened cloud. 

They speak of my deep delight, 
And I live again with a heart as proud 

As twenty years to-night. 



102 SUNBEAMS. 



I know that for every deed of mine 

I shall feel a joy or pain ; 
'Tis magical love from the hand divine 

That speaks of the past again. 




IN MEMORIAM. 



S||EAD while the author, assisted by Misses Mary 
Walker and Julia Groner, decorated the grave of 
Grandma Rowell, aged 83 years. 

Time softly sat upon her brow. 

As king upon his throne, 
And wove her hair with mingled snow 

Before his task was done. 

Calm be her last sweet silent sleep. 

Unmindful of our tears. 
As kindred 'round her casket weep 

In number as her years. 

Now gently place above her there. 

Bedewed by sorrow's tear, 
The floral cross, an emblem fair 

Of what she loved w 7 hile here. 

The spotless wreath — a snowy crown — 

Place just above her bed 
Which angels guard as hallowed ground 

Till God shall wake the dead. 

Could every one that she has blessed 

A floral tribute give, 
'Twould bury deep her final rest 

And cheer our hearts w r ho live. 



104 



SUNBEAMS. 



Her count of years was fully made, 
The veil of death unrolled 

And left her form in silence laid 
Amid its sunset gold. 

But God shall guard this silent bed 
And crown it with a wreath 

As fair as ever decked the head 
Of martyr in his death. 

The early flower thereon shall bloom, 

So sweetly as at home. 
And fondly shed upon the tomb 

The fragrance of the throne. 

The regal sun shall oft baptize 

Her bed in dazzling gold, 
And night let down when stars arise 

His mantle for her fold. 

The hand that gave her being birth 
Still keeps her in the grave ; 

In heaven above or on the earth 
No other one can save. 

To Him the countless dead still live— 

Nor are there any dead — 
To none of all the earth He'll give 

An endless, dreamless bed. 

Her children's woe shall oft bedew 
This silent spot with tears, 



SUNBEAMS. 105 



And here again their grief renew 
Throughout succeeding years. 

Now must the last farewell be said 
Sleep thou in peace till dawn, 

Till over thee at last shall spread 
The resurrection morn. 




14 



LITTLE THINGS 



iff'HERE'S never a sunbeam falls, 
On a bare and desolate place, 
Bu£ it leaves a mark that all 
Time can never efface. 

There's never a thought that comes 
Or goes over the wonderful brain, 

But helps to foot up the sum 
Of inf nite loss or gain. 

There's never a grain of sand, 
Bv the winds or waters driven, 

But helps to build up some land 
Beneath the blue heaven. 

There's not a flower that's spread, 
So far in the tenantless wild, 

But helps to laurel the bed 
Of a mother or child. 

There's never a sprig of green, 

In the carpet of earth that's wove, 

But softens the landscape seen 
By the eye from above. 

There's never a snowdrop fair, 

That gently came down on the trees, 



SUNBEAMS. 10' 



But moistened the morning air 
Or the evening breeze. 

There's never a clewdrop hung 
On a leaf or a bending plume, 

But it kissed the rising sun 

And caught the midnight moon. 

There's never a little star, 
In the azure brow of night, 

But gives light to worlds afar, 
Beyond our mortal sight. 




IN MEMORIAM. 



EDYTH SHEPARD. 



|f|ER coffin was opened, revealing within 
^ A form that was spotless in freedom from sin ; 
The glance of the angel yet shown in her face, 
Still peaceful and sweet in his silent embrace. 

Her hands, mutely crossed, on her bosom were iaid- 
The river was passed and the journey was made — 
The flowers and robes on her bosom so cold 
Were spotlessly white, as the snow on the wold. 

Her soft hair in beauty now fell on her brow, 

As gently as lovers do whisper a vow ; 

The dear eyes were closed on a vision so bright 
That it flooded the valley of shadows with light. 

She saw through the mist of the vanishing shore 
The mansion of God and the wide open door ; 
Her sun-hat was setting low down in the west 
But ushered her forth to the morning of rest. 

O, glorious and sweet was the ecstacy wild 
Of the angels above when they greeted the child ; 
They welcomed her home to the city above 
And bathed her pure spirit in infinite love. 



SOMETIMES. 



||OMETIMES the storms are fierce and wild 
^ Around the pilgrim here, 
For each with Christ is sorrow's child 
In anguish, pain and fear. 

Sometimes the young, and pure, and fair, 

Are withered by a blight, 
And fade as dreams on midnight air 

Forever from our sight. 

Sometimes the sun between the storms 

Pours down a golden tide, 
And every pulse of nature warms 

Through all the valleys wide. 

Sometimes the buds unopened fall 

Before their beauty's blown ; 
So death may spread o'er us his pall 

Before our task is done. 

0, let us work, with tireless will, 

To fit ourselves for home — 
Our mission well and faithful fill 

Until the angels come. 



** 



SUNSET AT SEA. 



9| stood on the white sea sand, 
^ And watched the billows toss, 
From crystal caverns on the strand, 
White shells and tinted moss. 

While down the western sky there rode 

A splendid train of gold, 
And o'er the gateway cast a robe 

Of glory yet untold. 

Now, nearer still, the monarch came, 
While brighter rose his gleam, 

Till earth and ocean all became 
More splendid than a dream. 

The decorations of his car, 

As forth he rode in state, 
Caught all their glory from afar — 

From heaven's outer gate — 

While waves of fire and billows bright- 
Each wore the King's fair dye — 

As gates of pearl and thrones of white 
Were changing in the sky. 

The sky beneath embosomed bore 
That rapturous scene above, 



SUNBEAMS. Ill 



And heaven's peace the circle wore, 
Like to that home above. 

No grander scene shall eye behold, 

Until the river blue 
Shall flash the streets of purest gold 

Upon our ravished view. 

The sapphire tinge and crimson stain 
That fringed those banners gay, 

In silence, on that upper plane, 
Faded to faintest gray. 

On ebon wings the night came down — 
Fit mourning for the fled — 

A million stars, in circles bound, 
Their torches lit overhead ; 

While all the waves a mournful dirge 

Were beating on the shore, 
And gentle zephyrs from the surge 

Each whispered "Gone before." 

Thus sets the sun when day is o'er, 
With all its banners bright, 

And trails its streamers on the shore 
To kiss the earth "good night." 

So when the christian wanders down 

To life's storm-girded west, 
The clouds that on the living frown 

To him are glory-dressed. 



112 SUNBEAMS, 



The pearly gates, by sight unseen, 

Where faith familiar goes, 
He enters, while from valleys green 

Celestial music flows ; 

Where angels, wand'ring.near the side 

Of waters still and clear, 
Their sweetest notes waft o'er the tide, 

Unmingled by a tear. 

Where streets beneath rich pictures hold 

Of gems that glitter there, 
For each is laid in burnished gold 

And kept forever fair. 

The rainbow that surrounds the throne, 
The white-robed millions fair, 

The dazzling angels, every one 
Are held embosomed there. 

Before, beside, beneath, above, 

Where all is perfect day, 
Is seen some object of His love 

That "fadeth not away." 



ON THE SAND. 



Sfi child went forth on a blushing morn, 

Filled with a hope and pride new born, 
Where the white sand beach in beauty lay, 
Smoothed by the tide as it ebbed away. 

There, with tireless hand, he wrought that day- 
As boys are wont in their restless play — 
A mansion fair, with turret and gate, 
And himself the lord with grand estate. 

But when the wings of the evening swept, 
And over the landscape softly crept, 
His weary feet to the threshold came 
With the tread of joy and not of shame. 

Then to his mother, with childish grace, 
All shining forth from his sweet, pure face : 
''Mother, I've built, on the sun-lit sand, 
A wonderful mansion, tall and grand." 

Far out at sea, where turbulent waves 
Were thund'ring over the sailors 7 graves, 
A tempest had risen, in angry form, 
And shoreward swept a furious storm. 

Higher and higher the blue waves rolled, 
The signal bells from the station tolled, 

15 



114 



SUNBEAMS. 



The broad sand beach with ruins was driven. 
Where angry waves with earth had striven. 

He hastened back to the self-same place. 

To finish his work with will and grace. 

When the morning tipped the clouds in gold. 
And the storm its vengeful ire had told. 

Then a cry of sorrow and despair 
Went forth on the calm, fresh morning air ; 
His hope w r as blasted, his mansion fair 
Was swept away — naught but sand was there. 

So older ones, and wiser than he, 
Are building on sand by time's dark sea ; 
Sooner of later the waves will come, 
When a wreck and ruin will be their doom. 

But those who build on the Great High Rock, 
Shall stand forever the tempest's shock ; 
When the waves below 7 in haste are driven. 
Bask in the sweet, pure light of heaven. 




THY IMAGE. 



JKAS'T thou seen the sun, as he sinks away 
^ In robes of splendor at close of the day ; 
Or, his signal flame in the northern sky 
While silently waving a last good-by? 

Hast thou seen th^ skies of a peaceful night, 
As the stars come out in their brilliant flight, 

When the moon rides forth as an armored queen, 
And the silvery clouds aloft are seen? 

Hast thou seen the lake, in its tranquil bed, 
Clasp in its bosom that host overhead, 

When the skies beneath mock the skies above. 

As perfect as heaven, as pure as love? 

Hast thou seen the trees, on the shadowy brink, 
Each waving its thanks for the cooling drink, 
When ghostly trees in the waters below 
All gracefully move as the others go? 

Hast thou seen the lilies, each bending low 

To kiss its shade in the waters below ; 

Or, thine own fair self, with wonderful grace, 
Far down in the depths of the lake's calm face ; 

Or, the sun's bright form in the rainbow spread, 
When the storm is past and its wrath is fled ; 



116 SUNBEAMS. 



As the rain-drop sleeps in the rosebud nigh, 
Catching its hue from the gold-tinted sky? 

Hast thou ever thought that my heart shall keep 
Thine image, as stars in the waters sleep, 
And, holding it clasped in a fond embrace, 
In the years to come thy fair visage trace? 




IN MEMORY OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 



JILL laureled and green shall his memory he, 

While surge after surge rolls in from the sea ; 
He shall live in the hearts of the noble and brave 
Till none shall be driven away to the grave. 

Whoever shall give to our country his fame, 
No mortal shall ever write higher his name ; 

As the sun to the west mantling earth in deep gloom 

So quietly goes he away to the tomb. 

Bright stars of the night, from their glittering home, 
Shall shine o'er his grave through long ages to come ; 

The soft winds shall sigh and the dew T drops shall 
fall 

O'er the grave of our leader, who answered the call. 

The broad wing of death o'er our nation was cast, 
And left a deep shadow on all as it passed : 
The hearts of our people are tender and brave, 
And ages to come they will laurel his grave ; 

They'll strew o'er his bed the sweet flowers that fade — 
Bright emblems of him who beneath them is laid ; 

Naught else can e'er speak such soft language, of 
love ; 

They point us away to the Eden above. 



11& SUNBEAMS. 



As clouds in the west hold embosomed the light, 
Long after the sun has passed from our sight, 
So, darkened to-night by this terrible shame, 
We still shall reflect his bright record of fame. 

Though thrones shall arise, and then totter and fall, 
And oblivion cast o'er their ruins his pall, 

Yet one from the wreck shall all glorious rise — 
The name of our brother, now crowned in the skies 



mm 



THE CITY ABOVE. 



^HERE'S a land all clad in sunset and gold, 

And 'broidered with fairest flowers, 
Tis the city above — the Savior's fold — 
Amidst the immortal bowers. 

'Tis amidst the street and beneath the throne 
Life's waters wander soft and free, 

And over each jewel of God's dear Son 
He spreadeth his Evergreen Tree. 

The streets of the city rich mirrors are 

Of the stainless heavens above, 
And beneath the feet of the ransomed far 

Is reflected his matchless love. 

No withering blight, in that land of light, 

E'er over the living shall roll ; 
Forever set free from the gloom of the night 

In the perfect home of the soul. 



THE BOUQUET. 



HfHE bouquet I found on my table, wife, 
Was fair as an angel and pure as life ; 
Those beautiful buds, like stars of the night, 
Mingle so sweetly — the green, red and white. 

And out from the water, with power divine 

And magical vigor, came a sweet vine, 
All twining itself, as if to embrace 
Within its soft foldings the crystalline vase. 

Its language is sweet as the chime of a bell, 
Or the whispered vows that fond lovers tell. 
0, what charming things our Father has made 
To burst into glory and quickly fade. 

But e'en as I write the meaning I glean — 

To teach us all of the valley between ; 

For years will come with their shadow and sheen, 
And carry us forth to the pastures green. 

Ah ! then we'll drink of the fountain of life, 
And spring into glory at once, dear wife, 
In a land unknown to a fading flow'r, 
A mouldering urn, or a falling tow'r. 

From a love as pure as these flowers fair 
Shall arise for you my evening prayer ; 



SUNBEAMS. 121 

Forever, the same as this tender vine, 
My spirit shall cling renewed to thine. 

But this sweet bouquet is the outward sign 

Of a fairer one in that heart of thine, 

Which never grows dim by the falling of tears, 
But sweeter and brighter with gathering years. 

With fingers of light thy spirit hath wove 

This wonderful garland of purest love, 
Entwined with truth and affection as fair 
As an angel's flight through the midnight air. 

Each beautiful thought, from its home in the sky, 
I fancy hath wrought here its wonderful dye, 
Till the fairest of earth and heaven combine 
All their delicate tints in that sacred shrine. 

When the silver of age on our brows is cast, 
And the hour to part is at hand at last, 

The river of death shall not fade its bloom ; 

'Twill flourish for ever beyond the tomb. 

With marvelous powers it then shall grow 
In heaven 'mid robes that are whiter than snow ; 
As countless its years as the sand on the shore — 
There shall its glory be more, ever more. 



,&* 



DEATH OF MOSES. 



JIROUND Nebo's lofty summit, where stay 

The golden sunbeams longest, falls to-night 
A silvery-tinted flood of glory. 
In the far west a thousand flames arise, 
As if the gods their incense burn anew 
For the dying day. The sun is sinking for 
The last time to Israel's mighty chief 
Who treads alone, yet not alone, the rocks 
On which the eye of weary pilgrim rests 
From far as he rises o'er distant hills. 

Amid the holy quietude so sweet, 

That rested like the calm of souls at peace 

With God, upon that lofty hight so far 

Above the vernal hills and vales all fresh 

And pure, the mighty chieftain calmly stands. 

Upon his knees, with kingly brow bared 

To the cooling breeze, as in thankfulness, 

He poured all the great deep of his broken 

Heart forth into the everlasting ear 

Of God : He pleaded now for mercy's balm. 

When his last prayer was ended, and his heart 
Once more was calm as when on snowy couch 
An infant slept in kingly palace hall, 
He rose up, slowly, and leaned against a 
Hoary rock, while his soul feasted on a 



SUNBEAMS. 123 

Scene arrayed for this one special hour. 
Eastward, bathed in snowy whiteness, softly 
Rose and fell the hills as billows driven 
On by tempest winds, while far beneath him. 
Like to molten silver, ran the Jordan. 

O'er those peaceful waters he had hoped, 

Till now, to lead his faithful people on 

To rest beneath the vines and figs beyond. 

For long and weary miles he led the host 

Of Israel on through forty years of 

Manhood's noblest days. Unbidden, tears came 

To his eyes as they rested on the white, 

Broad field of tents, now spread -like snow T drops o'er 

The plain beneath, w T hile underneath them spread 

The everlasting arms of God's true love. 

Above him, like a floating mountain, hung 

A snowy cloud — fitting emblem of his 

Pure and faithful love to God. The wreathing 

Smoke of evening sacrifice to heaven 

Rose up as prayer ascends from hearts made pure. 

The soft and holy calm of twilight reigned 

Over all, like outspread wings of angels ; 

The time when God comes nearest to our hearts 

And sweetest seems his mercy to the soul. 

0, it was a glorious time to die. 

When the calm of twilight stole in rapture 

O'er the scene, and heaven's peace seemed strangely 

Near — for angels stood in waiting bands to 



124 SUNBEAMS. 

Guide his spirit up the shining pathway 

Of the skies when his work was done — 

With hands outstretched in benediction on 

The host of Israel beneath, his last 

Prayer was for them. With eye un dimmed and 

bright 
And step elastic, as in youth, he laid 
Him down and died — the hero of a world. 

In Moab's vale, so fair and green, angels 
Cleft the sod and smoothed the turf above 
His noble form, where summer's sunbeams bathe 
The earth in mystic waves, and autumn winds 
Still breathe a mournful cadence like far-off 
Note of harp or song. Man hath not known the 
Silent spot through all the flight of years since 
Then — where sleep his dust — but in the ages 
Yet to be, when cycles have an end, he 
From that grave shall spring to live forever. 




MY FRIEND. 



|jj|NE gentle thought let meni'ry give. 

When days and years have fled, 
To him who then, perchance, shall live- 
As do the silent dead. 

You know that oft we live again 
Through all our former years, 

And dwell beyond a thought of pain. 
Or weep with bitter tears. 

May you improve each day of life, 

Nor mar its spotless page, 
And may your path with joy be rife 

When you shall reach old age. 

And when the angels' silent call 

Shall note your final hour. 
Go thou, as moonbeams gently fall, 

To your celestial bower. 




LINES TO MRS. MINNIE BONE 

jglN her departure for the East, after a short stay in 
Washington Territory, during which her husband 
and one of her two little boys died : 

We bid thee now a last farewell, 

Amid this western wild, 
While tears, for words, our wishes tell ; 

God keep thee and thy child. 

Thy stay to us was sweet, yet brief, 
To thee 'twas fraught with pain ; 

As early blight upon the leaf 
Thy darlings here were slain. 

Thy very sorrows drew our love 

Instinctively to thee, 
And daily to the throne above 

We pleaded long for thee. 

You know God's mighty arm is near 

The wounded heart of pain, 
To wipe away the falling tear 

And bid hope rise again. 

May years of peace around thee lie, 

As sunbeams gird the rose, 
And build for thee a treasure high 

In heaven's sweet repose. 



SUNBEAMS. 



12' 



May rainbows o'er thy pathway arch, 

And roses bloom beside ; 
In robes of spotless white then march 

Down to the river side. 




BY THE SEA. 

9| stand on the beach and hear the deep roar 
® Of waves as they break and dash on the shore ; 
Far over the deep white gulls are at play, 
Bathing their plumage in wreaths of white spray. 

Just one little cloud moves up in the sky — 
A robe floating down from the throne on high ; 
The sun is folding his banners to rest 
And going to sleep on ocean's deep breast ; 

The waves all assume a shimmering light — 
For the sun is kissing them each good night ; 

But some day I'll stand by an ocean wide. 

Where the angel bands are crossing the tide ; 

For, like waves of light, they come to the shore, 

To bear us away to wander no more ; 
Just over that flood is a gleam of light 
All cleansed in blood — 'tis a robe of white 

And a crown of gold with its brilliants fair. 

As the light comes down thro' th' purest air ; 
But the light that shines on that better shore — 
Ah ! he shall fade never, never more. 



-¥— 



A WISH FOR THEE. 



IgF I were asked to write for thee 
^ A wish of beauty rare, 
I'd ask for thee in life to be 
A child of humble prayer ; 

To weave a robe of spotless w T hite, 

By deeds of purest love, 
And in the hour of sorrow's night 

Cling to the hand above. 

Each deed of kindness to the poor 
Shall bind thee to thy Lord, 

And bring the angels to thy door — 
According to His word. 

Drink deeply of the stream of life, 

That murmurs softly by, 
Thy cup with blessings shall be rife 

Till thou art called to die ; 

Then, with the angels hovering nigh, 

Step camly in the waves, 
For thou art treading closely by 

A land unmarred by graves. 

For all who tread that nightless strand 
Ne'er feel a rising sigh ; 

17 



130 



SUNBEAMS. 



In all that glory-covered land 
Not one shall ever die. 

Within the gates of solid pearl. 

Whose walls are great and high. 
Amid th' courts of a pure world 

We'll meet thee by and by. 

When ages, countless as the stars. 

Or numbered as the sand, 
Shall have passed and gone afar. 

In youth still shalt thou stand. 

With golden harp, of sweetest tone. 

And palm of vict'ry fair, 
Amid the blood-washed, near the throne, 

Shalt praise forever there. 




NOT FOREVER. 



^IX vain we may look, as each child passes by, 
^ For the pale, sweet face, and the soft, dark eye, 

But some day we'll see, as the children all come. 

Our beautiful darlings gathering home. 

For the Shepherd shall raise, from its couch of clay, 
Each snowy white lamb and lead it away 
By waters that How in sweet silence along 
Through pastures of verdure enlivened with song. 

Then the trials of earth, with their sorrows and tears, 
Fraught with deep pain and the burdens of years, 
Shall speed from our sight, as a bird on the wing — 
We'll dwell in the presence of Christ, our King. 

0, the spirits sweet home ; no tongue can e'er tell 
How fair is the place where the pure shall dwell, 
Where their whole lives shall be as a peaceful dream 
And flow on for aye as a gentle stream. 

Not a star shall speed there in its matchless flight — 
For over the landscape gathers no night — 

The leaves shall not fade, nor the flowers decay, 
Nor light from the throne fade ever away. 



^ 



HE DIES, 



2| LL* day long, with hurrying feet, 

The rabble trod through every street, 
Nor saw, till late, the coming doom 
Foreboded by the gathering gloom ; 

For, like the rushing, roaring waves, 

And billows in the ocean caves, 
That mighty host, on death intent, 
With fearful cry the heavens rent. 

The rich, the poor, the priest, the slave 
Spared not the Mighty One — to save ; 
With one accord that raging cry, 
When read aright, said : "Crucify." 

A robe of purple put they on 

The Prince of Life — God's Blessed Son — 
And laid the cross of death upon 
Earth's only spotless, sinless one. 

They smote Him then upon the cheek, 
And asked that He their names should speak ; 
They crowned His head with thorny wreath 
And closed His eyes as if in death. 

With anger fierce and cruel pride 

They pierced Him in the hands and side, 



SUNBEAMS. 133 



Then stood they by and, mocking, said : 
"The vile deceiver now is dead." 

"Truth crushed to earth again shall rise," 
To claim her kingdom 'neath the skies ; 

So Christ, the King, from death come forth. 
The sceptre sways o'er all the earth. 




MY BOY 



|jj|0 forth in the pride of an honest heart 

To gather life's golden sheaves. 
And never away from that path depart 
As you turn its silken leaves. 

For a pure heart, as a diamond rare, 

Encases its home in light, 
Whether hidden far in the ruder mines 

Or shut in a casket bright. 

But it shines at last with a borrowed glow. 

As the moon reflects the sun, 
For the light we give is a fading bow, 

Its source — the Eternal One. 




THE FAMINE. 



^| famine swept forth — how fearful and dread 

The tongue of no mortal can tell — 
Her food was all gone, her husband was dead. 
Her children were hungry and pale. 

She sat where the flames of a brilliant lamp. 

Just lit by a delicate hand. 
Cast its light on the family bible — 

Used simply to lay on the stand. 

Op'ning the volume, she turned o'er the leaves. 

Fraught with beautiful w r ords of truth, 
As perfect as the golden harvest sheaves 

Once gleaned by the hand of Ruth, 

Till she came to the midst of the volume. 
Where the matters of record are. 

Then paused till she read in the margin 
These w r ords that w r ere written there : 

"When misfortune shall come as a tempest. 
And whelm thee in utter despair. 

Then search here for a magical secret 
To banish thy sorrow and care." 

Now the tears from a heart, tender, broken. 
Fell fast as the life pulses go, 



136 SUNBEAMS. 



And revealed to her wondering vision 
The treasure long hidden below : 

'Twas a paper containing a fortune, 
Placed there by her own father's hand, 

Close between the white pages, on tissue, 
And granted her treasure and land. 

There are treasures laid up in the bible 
For all who will seek them with tears, 

Placed there by a dear, loving father 
Whose love never faileth with years. 




A PICTURE OF MEMORY. 

<3|N the silence of the night, 
^ In the rush of busy day. 
With cheeks of rosy light 

And curls that softly play 
With the breezes' balmy wings — 

Voice as soft as music's strain 
Or morning bird that sings 

A low and sweet refrain — 
Embodied form of heaven's grace, 

And a heart that gives its loves. 
With soft and childlike face 

That with each emotion moves. 
Before me stands the image 

Of one I used to woo, 
Deeply stamped on memory's page. 

And blessed as the dew. 




18 



THE JUDGMENT. 



|IDST the wailing on earth and the sign in the sky. 
The archangel shall summon the low and the 

high. 
For all heaven and earth to the Judgment shall 

come — 
Yea. the righteous to bliss and the wicked to doom. 

He shall come on a cloud, in his beauty arrayed — 
By a host of bright angels from glory conveyed — 

Then, with one foot on sea and the other on land. 

The blue heavens shall fade at the wave of his hand. 

Then the sea that has kept all the secrets given 
Away from the earth shall forever be driven. 
And the bodies long hid in its caverns away 
To the throne of -the Savior shall hasten that day. 

The earth that was whelmed in the waves of a flood 
Shall be burned and prepared for the pure and the 
good; 
Not a thorn shall e'er rend, not a thistle shall bloom. 
Nor its bosom be marred by a grave or a tomb. 

Then away from the lips of the mourner at last 
Shall all sorrow and sighing forever be cast ; 

Not a heart shall be broken, no tear-pleading eye 
Where the river of life flows unceasingly by. 



SUNBEAMS, 



139 



There no sickness shall come, with its gathering gloom, 
To e'er fade from the cheek its bright freshness and 
bloom ; 
In robes that were washed in the fountain of blood 
They shall wander forever — the pure and the good. 

In that city of God, from the heavens above, 
Shall dwell only those who were purchased with love, 
And no being shall enter the pearl gates within 
Unwashed in the blood of the Lamb from all sin. 



Then the earth, all renewed, shall God's paradise be, 
In the midst of which standeth the life-giving tree 

With the throne of the Savior — beneath the blue 
dome 

He shall dwell with His jewels forever at home. 



IT PAYS. 



9|T pays to he kind to the suffering one, 
® Though his garments be tatters and clouded his 
sun ; 

Though stained he his soul with the footprints of sin. 

Tt pays to he kind, for it marks thee within. 

It pays to he kind to the young and the old — 
Their blessings are richer than silver and gold — 
It matters not now what their fathers have been, 
It pays to he kind, for it marks thee within. 

It pays to be kind, for it softens the pain 

Of th' past as it comes with its changes again. 

And takes from the soul the dark mantle of sin — 
It pays to he kind, for it marks thee within. 

It pays to be kind, for its labors are light 
And free as the wings of an angel in flight : 

It lights up the spot where the shadows have been — 
It pays to be kind, for it marks thee within. 

It pays to be kind to the sinner and saint, 
To lift up the fallen and strengthen the faint. 
To help in the right and drive out the sin — 
It pays to be kind, for it marks thee within. 

It pays to be land, for your face will be fair 
When angels in rapture shall gaze on you there ; 



SUNBEAMS. 



141 



Your eye shall be bright as your mission has been — 
It pays to be kind, for it marks thee within. 

It pays to be kind, for your dreams shall be sweet 
As you bow to the tread of the spirit of sleep. 

And the stars of the night their flight shall begin — 
It pays to be kind, for it marks thee within. 

It will pay to be kind wherever you be, 
At home or abroad, on the land, on the sea ; 
It quickens to life where no living has been — 
It pays to be kind, for it marks thee within. 

It pays to be kind, for we're wearing to-day 
A robe that shall last us forever and aye ; 
We're pluming our spirits for infinite flight 
Where day shall ne'er touch the black mantle of 
night. 




THE ROSEBUD. 



aftlLENCE reigned unbroken within the home 

^ Where death had come. A little child was laic 

Upon a spotless couch, whose cherub limbs, 

White and perfect as if moulded by the gods 

From Parian stone, contrasted richly 

With the raven curls now falling o'er the 

Snowy pillows. O'er her face there lingered 

Still the gentle smile she wore when she stood 

With God's messenger one moment face to 

Face and caught one gleam of heaven's brightness. 

Within her hands, so gently crossed, she held 
A rose, as yet unblown, appealing to 
The heart more eloquently of her own 
Fair self than formulated speech. We leave 
Her thus while the coffin lid is closed ; 
And the good man came with holy words of 
Truth to comfort broken hearts and heal 
The troubled mind. He read in softest tone 
The healing balm that flowed so like a 
Mighty river from Jesus' tender heart. 

Then with eloquence almost divine, her 
Spirit, painted with radiant w T ings from 
The abode of dank and mouldering forms. 
Rising as eagles to starlit skies, e'en 
Unto gates of pearl, by beings spotless, 



SUNBEAMS. 



143 



Opened wide. u He cannot come to us but 
We can go to him," said Israel's king 
When death had claimed his spotless lamb, 
For prayer had failed to stay the angel's wing- 
Hut faith the riven chain unites again. 

With reverent touch the lid again move 
Back while weeping friends imprint a farewell 
Kiss upon her icy lips ere to dust 
They pass away. The lid's removed, and lo ! 
The rose unblown has opened wide its bloom- 
Suggestion solemn, sweet and pure of her 
Own expanding spirit now from earth set 
Free ; no longer hindered by the slow 
Moving tide of human life, but, like the 
Angels, swift unfolding in the "perfect day." 




THE BOOK OF MEMORY. 



tHE mystic leaves of memory 
I sometimes love to turn, 
To scent the roses of the past 
And view the broken urn. 

Here I behold the blooming rose, 

'Mid buds of tender shade ; 
All mingled thus our lifetime goes 

Adown the sunset grade. 

We grasp the rose and feel the thorn. 

All hidden 'neath the leaves, 
As surely as the autumn morn 

Brings in the golden sheaves. 

The volume's written through and through, 

And indexed by that hand 
That holds the ocean, deep and blue, 

Subject to His command. 

Some pages now so faded are 

That I no more can tell 
Whether the angels from afar 

Pronounce them good or ill ; 

While others all too vivid seem, 
For pleasure or delight, 



SUNBEAMS. 



145 



And haunt me as a midnight dream 
Of phantom or of sprite. 

And yet I know that God has made 
All things to work for good — 

To those who dwell beneath the shade 
Made by the cross of wood. 

The centre shaft of history — 

The fountain whence life sprang — 

'Tis the rainbow of God's glory, 
Where all his mercies hang. 




19 



THE MORNING STARS. 



UfHE morning stars together sang, 

God's sons of joy shouted. 
O'er earth new-born their anthem rang 
Notes of peace unclouded. 

Almighty power had hung the dome 

With lamps celestial bright. 
And boundless love man's early home 

Filled with pure delight. 

How oft we wonder what they said 

In that first song of joy, 
Ere sin its ruin forth had spread 

Mingling a base alloy. 

While yet the dewdrops trembling hung. 

In time's first tinted morn, 
And not a thrill of pain had wrung 

The Godlike human form. 

Who were those stars of wondrous tone. 

Elate with pure delight. 
When God had finished up man's home 

And garnished it with light? 

And who those sons that shouted loud, 
Amid the morning air, 



SUNBEAMS. 14' 



Ere yet the sky had known a cloud 
Or sinner knelt in prayer ; 

Before the tempter came to mar 

The glory of the place, 
Or sin had left its lasting scar 

Upon the human race? 

Had they gazed with wondering eyes 

Upon the new-made world 
And watched the canopy of skies 

Above it when unfurled? 

0, those bright angels from on high, 

The army of the throne, 
Whose legions are in waiting nigh 

To God's beloved son. 

Did they, hovering near the earth, 

That song of peace proclaim, 
And shout aloud the Savior's birth — 

All glory to His name? 

0, did they watch in sadness die 

That Savior from the throne, 
And hear that w r ailing, mournful cry : 

"0, God! Thy will be done?" 

Ah, were they, clad in raiment white, 

The first to view the tomb, 
Prom whence He burst the chains of night 

And scattered all its gloom? 



148 



SUNBEAMS. 



They welcome Him once more on high. 
Back to his Father's throne. 

When legions, countless, bore him nigh 
To the Eternal One. 

Yet still they come, as lightnings gleam 

From heaven to the earth, 
And silent as a midnight dream 

They give His people birth. 




THY PICTURE. 



THERE'S a locket of gold 

In a casket hid. 
'Mong brilliants that sparkling gleam. 
With thy picture within. 

Just under the lid, 
Where softly thy dark eyes beam — 
As gems of light. 




CHRISTMAS. 



3jf|E would not waken buried deeds, 
w Excepting those of joy, 
Which angels bear with quickened speed 
And all their harps employ. 

But yester' seems that rising morn, 

Unclouded by a tear, 
When heaven's Prince was found new-born 

Within a stable near. 

A guardian star then led the way 

With brilliancy divine — 
For o'er the earth no brighter day 

Shall e'er in beauty shine. 

Sweet baby eyes that morn looked up 

In tenderness upon 
A mother now whose youthful cup 

Of joy and peace was won. 

The wise men knelt beside His bed, 

With precious gifts of gold, 
And many words of wonder said, 

By history untold. 

Shall e'er the stars look brightly down 
On lovlier scene than this, 



SUNBEAMS. 151 



Or give a mother fairer crown 
Or sweeter cup of bliss? 

The shifting scenes of time and space 
Have wrought their changes here, 

For on a blood-stained throne of grace 
He sits unchanging there. 

And doubtless now when mother's eye 
Looks fondly on her child, 

He thinks upon that cloudless sky 
Spread o'er the mountains wild ; 

And of the morn that o'er it rose, 
While angel notes still rung, 

Far sweeter yet of all of those 
For whom His birth was sung. 

But when we reach the pearly strand, 
And tread the sunlit shore, 

We'll clasp Him fondly by the hand 
And praise Him ever more. 



ML 



A MYSTIC STREAM 



9| mystic stream, in murmurs low, 
® Still echoes through the vale, 
And o'er its waves still hangs the how — 
God's pledge shall never fail. 

Sometimes I think that the way of life 
Runs strangely near its brink, 

And myriads perish in the strife 
Because they will not drink. 

The darkest cloud may still be rent, 

Admitting through the light, 
If but the shaft be upward sent, 

Though reaching out of sight. 

The darkest storm that fills the sky 

Forebodes the sweetest calm ; 
Where'er the wounded soul shall cry, 

There is the healing balm. 

E'en o'er the tomb immortal flow'rs, 

In fadeless beauty wave, 
To point us to the fragrant bow'rs 

Beyond the silent grave. 

Out from the dust, new-born, shall spring 

A magic being bright 
And shout, u O, death ! where is thy sting ; 

O, grave ! where is thy might." 



A PRAYER. 



fcome to-night with a weary heart 
To Thy throne of rest, 0, God ! 
To ask a humble but earnest part 
In the path Thy saints have trod. 

I ask not gold, nor its pomp and pride, 

But a pure and loving soul, 
With grace to tread by my Savior's side 

Till I reach the streets of gold. 

0, wilt Thou still with the light divine 

Illumine the narrow way — 
Into the depths of my heart still shine 

And guide to the perfect day? 

0, Savior ! reach, down Thy helping hand 

And my spirit safely hold 
Till I shall tread the golden sand 

Within Thy heavenly fold. 

Thy peace let fall on my weary way, 
As the dews of evening come, 

That faith may be as a cloudless day 
While I press my journey home. 

Let the rifted cloud float far from sight 
When the walls of jasper rise, 

20 



154 



SUNBEAMS. 



As the lightning gleams within the night, 
Or meteors through the skies. 

O, give me the grace each test to stand 

And the purer grow thereby. 
Till I shall reach the immortal strand 

Where the living never die. 




I SAW THEE THERE. 



ID the silent flow of a gentle dream 
I saw thee led by a silver stream, 
In robes of pure white and a crown of gold 
All mirrored bright in the waters cold ; 

And the countless host in the crystal light 

Came softly over my mortal sight, 

Where nearest thy side, on the golden sand, 
Was He who died in that olden land. 

For the spirit of peace, oft felt unseen, 
Has sweetly told of the pastures green, 
Of the gentle flow of the healing tide 
And the millions bright on either side. 

Thy beautiful form was lovelier there, 
Thy robes of glory were strangely fair ; 

I pray for the time when sorrows are o'er — 
I'll dwell with thee on the other shore. 



CHILDHOOD. 



,jj| ACKWARD, along the march of time, we tread 

Amid the ruin he has wrought and hail, 
Entranced with joy, angelic forms that rise 
Before our eyes in robes of stainless white, 
And hear their low, soft words of love and cheer 
Borne faintly to our ear, as far-off song 
Upon the zephyr's wave or angels' wings, 
And find one page in life's great record past 
Where naught but sunshine dwells and stars appear 

It is when rainbows have their bags of gold 
And every hour its wonders bring. "Tis strange 
That from that page, as arrows from a shield, 
All sorrows pass away or lie beside 
A broken pile ; but every joy so deep 
Imprints itself, nor loosens once its hold 
Till life has reached its bannered west 
And found its long-sought goal — the silent tomb. 
Time but intensifies the joys of youth, 

Though grander scenes in beauty rise before 
Us now, and multitudes, applauding, cast 
Bouquets of fairest flow'rs beneath our feet ; 
And onward still the car of triumph wheels 
Until all nations rise to call us great, 



SUNBEAMS. 



157 



And good, and pure, and just, and ev'ry tongue 
Our virtues lisp with joy ; we, falt'ring, sigh 
To leave all these and dwell again a child — 
To chase the rainbow- and the butterfly. 







OUR FATHER. 



|f ATHER ! I see Thy wondrous skill 
^ Impressed on every leaf; 
On every bud I trace it still. 
And in the harvest sheaf. 

Thy smile doth shine from every star. 
Far in the depths of night, 

And not a world, however far 2 
Escapes Thy wondrous sight. 

I see it in the varied dyes 

That flash upon my sight 
On earth, and sea, and skies, 

From morning until night. 




THE TRIALS OF LIFE. 



3j remember the time when, side by side, 

We wandered forth in our young hearts' pride, 
When our lives were pure as snowflakes given 
Or angels fresh from the gates of heaven. 

The battle has grown till the cloud hangs deep 
And we hear its roar in our silent sleep, 
Till, waking, we wish our lives had fled 
And our forms were laid with the peaceful dead. 

Yes ; our trials come as the wavelets beat, 
On the rocky shore, 'neath our weary feet. 
And again recede, as the tide goes back, 
Smoothing the sand as its only track. 

Our loved ones lie 'neath the somber gloom 

That forever gathers around the tomb, 

While our faith still points to that hQme above 
Where the pure shall rest in the arms of love. 

But our Leader tries every soldier brave 
From birth till he enters the friendly grave ; 
For the chief delight of that home so fair 
Is the one fond thought of the peace that's there ; 

Where the blighted heart and a ghastly face 
Are things unknown in that heavenly place ; 



160 SUNBEAMS. 



Where the mingled songs of the ransomed rise 
In melody sweet to the sunlit skies. 

But with faintless will and with tireless feet 
We must ever tread toward the golden street, 

Till the dazzling light of the crystal sea 

Shall arise in glorious majesty ; 

Till we see the forms of the deathless glide 
By the waters clear of that living tide, 

And hear them sing of the fathomless love 

Of Him who was crowned by His fellows above. 

We'll join in the song of the victors there, 
And dwell in a home surpassingly fair ; 

But the sweetest thought of that home above — 
It is written in light — 'tis : "perfect love." 




FAITHFUL AM) TRUE. 

UK shadows deepen ; 

Night's wing is brooding now like mourning 
O'er distant hills and meadows soft and green ; 
The holy calm of twilight over all 
Is resting like the silent peace of hearts 
Too full for speech. Hope's fruition time 
Has come. The toil-worn laborer returns 
Home, where loving hearts welcome him to 
Rest with winning smile and kindliest speech ; 
The instruments of toil, un lifted, lie, for 
The day's task is done. 

The starlight glitters 
On the steel-like waves of a tiny lake ; 
The shadows, phantom-like, of trees and ferns. 
Of lilies tall and graceful, rise and fall 
With the moving waters. Here, arm in arm, 
Two lovers wander in the cool evening 
Shade. Beneath these arching boughs their plighted 
Vows were sealed, and thither often they 
Return. Like angels wandering from above 
They seem in the comeliness of their youth 
So full of gladness. 

The years roll onward ; 
Another twilight is resting with soft 
And placid touch upon the same lovers, 

21 



1(32 SIX BEAMS. 



Standing where once in youth we beheld them ; 
They recall, with happy hearts, the time when. 
Years ago, they drank, side by side, the deep 
Peace of eventide. Time lightly hovers 
O'er their brows with the faintest trace of care. 
Little sterner now the features are where 
Smiles still play as moonbeams o'er the earth 
Or sleeping waters. 

Twenty years have flown ; 
Beneath the arching boughs? 1 eside the lake. 
Among the ferns that softly sigh to the 
Zephyr — spirit-like that moves their fronds — while 
Sunsets glance, to liquid gold the waters 
Change, two forms appear, arm in arm, as heart 
To heart keeps time throughout the How of years. 
The winter snows have tipped their locks with white 
And furrowed deep their brows as time has 
Marked his flight. The evening time of life, 
Pure and bright, has come. 

Two coffined forms 
Beneath the same roof, asleep in serene 
Unbroken rest, where noiseless watchers keep 
Their tireless vigils through the night. Ay ! they 
Were ever side by side, in youth, in age. 
In death. Another scene now greets our eyes 
Where they so often wandered. In the 
Cool shade, with uncovered heads, now stand 
A group of mourners. How fitting that 



SUNBEAMS. 163 

Their forms should sleep at last within the spot they 
Did so fondly love. 

Faith points us away. 
Where we see the crystal gates wide open 
And angels waiting by the way that leads 
Unto the throne of white. Once more, hand in 
Hand, two forms appear, as youthful now as 
If their brows had never felt the press of 
Pain. The fruition time lias come at last, 
When they shall enter the fullness of joy 
From seed sown in tears. Music greets them there — 
Such as ear hath not heard. The curtain falls ; 
The scene is ended. 




SLEEP. 



Text — "Awake thou that sleepest and arise from the 
dead and Christ shall give thee light,"— Eph. 5 : 4. 



OST certainly these persons addressed, whatever 
their condition was, are commanded to awake 
from their sleep and " a rise from the dead." Then 
they were asleep and among the dead. We find a 
passage in Paul's writing to Timothy which sheds 
upon this theme a flood of light : "That they may 
awake themselves out of the snare of the devil who 
are taken captive by him at his will." 2 Tim. 2 : 26. 
According to this text that sleep consisted in being 
in captivity to the devil. Men are in captivity to the 
devil when they are doing his will and wickedness of 
whatever kind or caste is his w T ill ; hence men are his 
captives or prisoners (for they are in his snare or trap) 
whenever they engage in any kind of wickedness. The 
word captive is in the Greek "taken alive." 

This sleep then is not the sleep of death, for Paul 
affirms that they are "taken alive" by him at his 
will. We see then clearly that they are not literally 
dead nor among the literal dead. 

Now from what we have already seen we are pre- 
pared for the declaration of the same writer as to their 
condition, "you who were dead in trespasses and in 
sins hath he quickened." These persons w r ho were 



SUNBEAMS. 165 

asleep were "dead in trespasses and in sins/' and 
their awakening consisted in "recovering themselves 
out of the snare of the devil." They were commanded 
to awake out. of sleep and arise from the dead to some- 
thing. What, then, is the object to which they are 
commanded to arise? "Awake to righteousness and 
sin not." 1 Cor. 15: 34. Prepositions govern the ob- 
jective case. Righteousness is in the objective case in 
this declaration, and hence is the object to w r hich they 
are commanded to awake. 

• It is evident, indeed, that these parties were not 
literally asleep nor literally dead, for they are com- 
manded to "awake themselves," and commands are 
given neither to men asleep or dead. They themselves 
were to do the rising and recovering themselves out of 
the snare of the devil. This awakening consisted of 
freeing themselves from the power of the devil. 
They had the ability to free themselves from the 
power of Satan or else God would not command th'em 
to do so. Not only are they ordered to recover them- 
selves from the devil, but they are commanded to arm 
themselves for the conflict. Arm yourselves with the 
mind of Christ. 1 Pet. 4 : 1. The only arms neces- 
sary to successfully defeat Satan is the mind of Jesus. 
To all those who awake and arise there is a promise 
given. "Christ shall give you light." They needed 
light for they were in darkness and no wonder they 
were sleepy. The light they needed comes from 
Christ. What is the light then that Christ gives, for 
He is the "Sun of Righteousness?" "In Him was 



166 



SUNBEAMS. 



life and the life was the light of men." Jno. 1. The 
life of Jesus was the light given to men. He showed 
them the beauty of holiness in a perfeet life. But the 
light of that perfect life and example comes to us 
through the written life of Jesus or the gospel. There- 
fore Paul calls it "The light of the glorious gospel" of 
Christ, 7 ' and says it "shines into them." 2 Cor. 4 : 4. 
Christ then shines through the gospel, and into 
men's hearts. "God who commanded the light to 
shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts," 
and what does God shine in men's hearts for? "To 
give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in 
the face of Jesus Christ." He shines in men's hearts 
to give light, the light of knowledge, the knowledge of 
the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. This 
light reaches the heart through the mind. "For the 
God of this world hath blinded the minds of them 
that believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel 
of Christ should shine into them." He blinded the 
minds of them that believe not, because that is the 
only possible door of entrance to their hearts, and if 
he can get them to close their eyes and ears against 
the gospel, there is no danger of its light getting into 
their hearts. Sometimes, however, Satan succeeds in 
taking the word away from the heart, even after it 
reaches it. In the parable of the sower the Savior 
said : "The wayside hearer, or those by the wayside 
are they that hear, then cometh the devil and taketh 
away the word out of their hearts." Luke 8 : 12. 
Why make such a fight against the word in their 



SUNBEAMS. 167 



hearts? Because Satan knows more than many mod- 
ern theologians, for he knows that "the gospel of 
Christ is the power of God unto salvation to every one 
that believes. 7 ' Rom. 1:16. Yes, "he taketh away 
the word out of their hearts, lest they should 
believe and be saved." Luke 8 : 12. The word in the 
heart, if it remain, will produce a belief, and belief 
will produce salvation or recovery from the snare of 
the devil. This gospel shines unto men by preaching, 
"For we preach not ourselves but Christ Jesus, the 
Lord." 2 Cor. 4 : 5. Satan, then, to prevent the en- 
trance of the light of the gospel to the hearts of men, 
does all he can to prevent the preaching of the word ; 
therefore, we continually hear the most unreasonable 
and disreputable stories about ministers and pro- 
fessors of religion. Why is this, if it be not to blind 
the minds of them that believe not "lest the light of 
the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Je- 
sus Christ should shine unto them." 

Another phase of our subject now presents itself 
to our notice, viz : How shall these persons be able 
to pass from the death in sin to life and peace and joy 
in the Holy Ghost? "Verily, verily, I say unto you, 
he that heareth My word and believeth Him that sent 
Me hath everlasting life, and shall not come into con- 
demnation, but is passed from death unto life." 
They are enabled to pass from death unto life by 
hearing the words of Jesus and believing on God who 
sent Him. The words of Jesus Christ, or the gospel, 
then is the power of God to save men from this death, 



168 SUNBEAMS. 

this snare of the devil, this sleep in sin. The light 
from Christ is the will of God. ^Wherefore, be ye not 
unwise, but understanding what the will of the Lord 
is." Eph. 5: 17. "That servant which knew his 
lord's will and prepared not himself, neither did ac- 
cording to his will, shall be beaten with many stripes." 
Luke 12: 47. 

But now we reach the concluding part of this 
essay, and have seen that the sinner is dead. ! 
what a wreck is a ruined soul. We may wander in 
solemn wonder over the ruins of cities, towers and 
' mouldering urns piled by human hands, but what are 
these to compare with a ruined soul? These are the 
works of man, but man is the grandest work of God, 
for whom all others w r ere wrought. Yes ; sun, moon 
and stars — all created things — were formed for his 
good, and yet he, with all this heritage, may ruin his 
soul and blight his destiny. O ! how sad to think 
that he for whom earth was made and carpeted with 
verdure, for whom the grand old ocean rolls her 
waves, and rivers majestic wander through fields of 
delight, for whom the heavens were spread out in 
beauty and garnished in light, for whom the hand of 
God hath strown the sky with stars as innumerable as 
the sand upon the sea shore ; that even he whom God 
has destined to a dazzling throne eternal, may become 
the companion of devils and fallen angels, and his 
final receptacle be the outer darkness and the eternal 
fires. 



THE SHADOWY WAY. 



9|N archway unseemly hangs over the gate 
® That passes us out of this world, 
Whose portals are gloomy and ghastly as fate 
With wings of deep darkness unfurled. 

The children, unconscious and pure as the snow. 

All torn from our loving embrace, 
As a wonderful stream with a ceaseless flow 

Are passing, nor leaving a trace. 

Our brothers and sisters, with whispered farewell, 

Pass out through the shadowy way ; 
The message, half uttered, their fond lips would tell 

Shall be finished at last some day. 

Our friends, too, are going all day and at night — 

What a long and noiseless train — 
How often we think of their wonderful flight 

Away from life's sorrows and pain. 

Our fathers and mothers are fading like leaves 

When autumn is passing, for aye ; 
Ay ! the reapers still gather the golden sheaves 

And haste with their trophy away. 

Yes ; the young and the old, in an endless train, 
As drea,ms, in the shadows fade ; 

22 



170 SUNBEAMS. 



A sweet song returns with a whispered refrain : 
"We've passed through the valley of shade." 

When Time's checkered drama shall come to its close 

And spring shall revisit the tomb, 
The cheeks that were lurid shall blush as the rose 

In sweetest and earliest bloom. 

! haste thou mystical, wonderful "Some Day" 

To earth with thy glorious spell, 
When death shall be banished forever away 

And life shall forevermore dwell. 




PREACHING TO THE DEAD. 



"For, for this cause was the gospel preached also 
to them that are dead (see 1 Cor. 5: 5) that they 
might be judged according to men in the flesh, but 
live according to God in the spirit." — 1 Pet. 4 : 6. 



H^O the advocates of a post-mortem gospel we wish 
to say that whatever the apostle meant in this 
language, he certainly did not say that this preaching 
was done to these people after their bodies were dead 
and their spirits separated therefrom. On the other 
hand, if tense has anything to do with language, it is 
plainly inferable from this text that the} 7 were living 
when the preaching was done, but that they are now 
dead. "The gospel was preached to them that are 
dead." But the advocates of said doctrine with an air 
of triumph quote : "For Christ also hath once suf- 
fered for sin, the just for the unjust, that he might 
bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh, but 
quickened in the spirit. By which also he went and 
preached unto the spirits in prison, which sometimes 
were disobedient, when once the long-suffering of God 
waited in the days of Noah, while the ark was pre- 
paring, wherein few, that is eight souls were saved by 
water. 1 Pet. 3 : 18-21. From this declaration they 
attempt to draw the following conclusion, viz : That 
Jesus went by the spirit and preached to the spirits of 



172 SUNBEAMS. 



those wicked antediluvians while his body was lying 
in Joseph's new tomb. 

Now, unless Jesus was mistaken, he was not 
preaching to the spirits of those violent fellows while 
his body was in the grave, but was resting amidst the 
delights of Paradise, for to the poor thief w r ho was 
crucified beside him he said : "To-day shalt thou be 
with me in Paradise. " The only way that you can 
get Jesus and the antediluvians together during his 
stay in the grave is to take the absurd position that 
the spirits who w r ere so disobedient that they filled 
the earth with violence were all in Paradise whither 
Jesus and the thief went that day. If they were in 
that happy place for twenty-three centuries and that 
place remains all that time Paradise instead of Pan- 
demonium, then death and the terrors of the flood 
must have wrought a change in their moral status. 
Or if they remained unchanged amidst the joys of 
Paradise and enjoyed its bliss and drank in its peace 
that flows all-boundless and free for more than two 
thousand years, then one might more than suspect 
that Christ acted the part of cruelty in going there 
and disturbing the peace of that quiet retreat by 
preaching to those peaceful fellows the terrifying doc- 
trine "That they that have done evil (shall come 
forth) to the resurrection of damnation." Jno. 5. 

Again if they remained in that glorious, delightful 
place for ages, then will we begin to suspect that the 
wicked might enjoy eternal happiness. 

Christ w r ent by the spirit that raised him from 



SUNBEAMS. 



173 



the dead, not in person, and preached to the spirits 
in prison. The text does not say that the spirits were 
in prison when he preached to them, but he preached 
by the spirit to them while the ark was being pre- 
pared, but their spirits are now in prison. They, no 
doubt, are not only in prison, but are like the angels 
who kept not their first estate, bound under chains of 
darkness reserved unto judgment and the perdition 
of ungodly men. 

But if the spirits of fallen men, and the fallen 
angels shall share the same eternal destiny, as the 
Savior's own language clearly proves — "Depart from 
me ye cursed, into the eternal fire which is prepared 
for the devil and his angels, " (Matt. 25 : 41), it looks 
a little unfair to preach the gospel to the former and 
not preach it to the latter, for they are spirits. Heb. 
1 : 14. But we have said that Christ did this preach- 
ing by the spirit, and that "the spirit" is Christ's 
spirit, is evident from this : "The spirit of Christ 
which was in them (the prophets of old) did signify." 
1 Pet. 1 : 11. Now then a question of vital import- 
ance arises here, viz : How did Christ preach to them 
by the spirit that raised him from the dead, and that 
was in the prophets? To understand this it is neces- 
sary to remember that Noah was "a preacher of 
righteousness," and also that God said to this same 
people to whom Noah preached : "My spirit shall 
not always strive with man, for he also is flesh, yet his 
days shall be a hundred and twenty years." Gen. 4 : 
3. From these passages we learn that God's spirit 



174 SUNBEAMS. 



strove for a hundred and twenty years with, and Noah 
preached to the same men and^at the same time. Now 
to ascertain whether the spirit of God that raised 
Christ up strove through the preaching of Noah or 
not, it is only necessary to hear Paul's explanation of 
the matter : "Knowing the terrors of the Lord we 
persuade men." 2 Cor. 5 : 11. 

The spirit in the days of Paul strove by per- 
suading men through the preachers, and I presume 
the unchanging spirit strove in the same way in the 
time of Noah. God most assuredly gave these wicked 
ones who committed ungodly deeds every day a splen- 
did chance for their lives, for he strove by his spirit to 
reform them for a hundred and twenty years, and still 
they continned to be lawless and went on filling the 
earth with violence. They were more highly favored 
in this respect than we, for we of this day are not per- 
mitted to hear preaching so long, being limited to a 
shorter time, our whole lives being only three score 
and ten years. But an objector says we have the 
greater light to guide us and therefore do not need so 
great a length of time to learn the "way of holiness." 
Granted ; but what follows? Why ; our responsibili- 
ties increase in proportion to the light we have. 

But if Jesus actually did go to the place of de- 
parted spirits and preach to the wicked ones, why 
limit his efforts to those only "who were sometime 
disobedient when once the long-snffering of God 
waited in the days of Noah?" for there certainly were 
thousands of other wicked spirits beside them. 



SUNBEAMS. 



175 



Now it seems to me as utterly useless to preach 
either to the living or the dead at any other time ex- 
cept while the "long-suffering of God" waits. The 
long-suffering of God waited while the ark was pre- 
paring, but when it was finished then it waited no 
longer. 

Dear reader, do you suppose that after the long- 
suffering God waited for those w r icked fellows to re- 
pent, and not only that the Good Father persuaded 
them for so long, his long-suffering will again wait for 
Jesus to go to their prison and preach? 

But if you will excuse me for these extended re- 
marks, I will close by warning all men everywhere to 
repent while the long-suffering of God waits for us, 
and the gospel of the Son of God rings in our ears the 
sweet music of the "glorious land" and offers eternal 
life to those that do His commandments. 




BURIAL OF GENERAL GRANT. 



august 8, 1885. 



|jj|UR hero laid by all the trappings of war 

As the messenger spirit appeared — 
The helmet, engraven with liberty's star, 
And the heart to a nation endeared. 

For dim ranks of soldiers, in silent review, 
To salute him, stood ready once more, 

As he laid down his sword and softly withdrew 
To the fields of the far-away shore. 

While millions to-day in deep mourning shall weep, 
And all nations shall honor his name, 

We bear him away to his last silent sleep 
Till the trumpet his presence shall claim. 

The palace and throne of each kingdom shall be 

Adorned with the trappings of woe, 
As we bear to the tomb the chief of the free — 

By the hand of the spoiler laid low. 

The bugle no more can awaken from rest, 

Nor the cannon disturb his repose ; 
His warfare was done as the sun reached the west ; 

What a gorgeous and beauteous close ! 



SUNBEAMS. 



177 



The marble shall rise and be lettered in gold 
With the words of his nation's esteem : 

The world to its bosom his deeds shall enfold 
While the sunlight in glory shall beam. 

His bed shall be decked with the choicest bloom — 

As the giver there silently weeps — 
That day that's appointed to laurel the tomb 

Where the soldier and patriot sleeps. 

The muse shall arise with a heavenly strain 
To his matchless and wonderful pow r er, 

As he swept o'er the field through the hurtling rain, 
Nor flinched in the deadliest hour. 

The sculptor shall shape with his chisel divine 
His calm features and form in the stone, 

And over his brow shall the olive branch twine 
As he stands in his greatness alone. 

Our children shall rise as the ages go by — 
As the buds of the springtime unfold — 

And raise o'er his bed a fair rainbow, as high 
As the nations shall ever behold. 

We speak but the w r ords of our nation to-day 
When we give him a loving good-by ; 

Our pen cannot write and tongue cannot say 
All the peace that shall over him lie. 






A* 



23 



GOD IS LOVE." 



john iv. : 8. 



Mf HEN we look out upon nature's ample page for 
demonstration of this subject we find evidence 
apparently contradictory. 

When we go out by night and cast our eyes 
heavenward and see skies all peaceful and the count- 
less army of heaven marching on and on in bright 
and irresistible ranks, when we feel the gentle breezes 
fan our brow and scent the air perfumed with sweet 
flow r ers, 'tis then we feel within our hearts that the 
God of Nature "is love." 

Again we cast our gaze upward and behold the 
dark, terrible wings of storm-clouds, swift as an army 
in battle unfolding above us, while from every fold the 
brilliant flash of lightning glares and the dreadful 
roar of thunder shakes the earth to its foundation. 
Anon the solid earth is rent beneath us by the terrible 
earthquake, and whole cities are engulfed in the fright- 
ful chasm, while adown the slope of yonder mountain 
rushes a tide of lava, a mighty river of fire, sent forth 
by the volcano, burying everything in its course, men, 
women, children, horses, sheep and goats— every living 
thing — in one indistinguishable mass. 'Tis then we 
feel that Nature's God is smiting the earth with a 
curse. Hence the ancients, seeing these apparently 



SUNBEAMS. 179 



contradictory or conflicting manifestations of nature, 
had a separate god for each separate thing in nature. 

They were not able, it seems, as we are, to soar out 
far unto the great universe of God and see that the 
same universal law called gravitation, with silent, mys- 
terious, irresistible power binds all things, even to the 
remotest verge of the great empire of nature, to one 
common centre. 

Plainly, then, here is a universal law. Law 7 always 
presupposes a legislative powder. And the infinite 
law suggests an infinite mind, an infinite legislator. 
There can be but one infinite universe and one infinite 
God ; therefore the same God presides over all the dif- 
ferent manifestations of nature, from the unfolding of 
the tiniest flower to the stupendous sw T eep of a mag- 
nificent world, and our text proclaims that He "is 



LOVE." 



We understand the meaning of this short but 
pregnant declaration of holy w r rit to be — that love 
rules all the acts of God. 

This being true, how 7 can he ' ; punish the wucked 
with an everlasting destruction from the presence of 
God and the glory of His pow 7 er." This can only be 
answered in full by the further prosecution of our sub- 
ject. 

Love is generally thought to be a kind of abstract 
something, a single passion of the mind. This, how- 
ever, will appear to be utterly false as w T e proceed. 

'"God is love." We presume no one in his sober 
senses w T ill claim that God is a passion of the mind. 



180 SUNBEAMS. 



God is infinite, therefore love is infinite, for God is 
love. Love is not only infinite, but eternal also, for 
David said : "From everlasting to everlasting Thou 
art God." Having taken our stand upon the threshold 
of the temple of truth let us now advance and gently 
push open the door to catch a glimpse of the pearls 
and jewels that flash their clear light upon us from 
every niche and conceivable spot of the interior. It is 
filled with all the treasures both of the knowledge and 
wisdom of God. God has at least five attributes : 

1. Power. If you wish to be impressed with this 
attribute of Deity, take your stand upon some high 
cliff overlooking the ocean and watch the mountain 
waves as they rush after each other in quick succession 
and thunder against the rock-bound shore, deafening 
you with the fearful crash and making even the 
mountains tremble as the storm lashes the ocean's 
bosom to a foam. Most impressive and beautiful is 
the language of Isaiah upon this point : "He hath 
measured the waters in the hollow of His hand, and 
meted out heaven with a span, and comprehended the 
dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the 
mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance." Isa. 
40 : 12. "Mine hand also hath laid the foundation 
of the earth, and my right hand hath spanned the 
heavens." Isa. 48 : 13. 

2. Wisdom. The attribute of power uncon- 
trolled by wisdom w r ould in all probability soon rend 
the globe in pieces, and extinguish all life upon its sur- 



SUNBEAMS. 



181 






face and bring in a universal "wreck of matter and 
the crash of worlds. " 

3. Justice. As power alone might be so exceed- 
ingly destructive it is balanced by wisdom to guide it 
to legitimate and wise results, so power and wisdom 
together might still work out infinite injury to man 
and the universe, but they are ever guarded and 
guided by that vigilant detective. Justice, so that ex- 
act right is meted out in everything. 

4. Vengeance is the attribute of Deity that 
metes out exact punishment to the guilty. Men dis- 
posed to cavil at the word of God speak of God as a 
revengeful being simply because it says "Vengeance 
is mine, I will repay saith the Lord." Rom. 11 : 19. 
And also Jesus, we are told, will come again "taking 
vengeance on them that know not God and obey not 
the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ." Now in both 
these sentances the Lord is declared to be the one who 
exercises vengeance. Vengeance then and not re- 
venge is the attribute of God. Vengeance means to 
mete out the exact punishment due to the offender, 
but Revenge means punish till man's passion is satis- 
fied. The one is exercised by infinite power, wisdom, 
justice, mercy, while the other is prompted by passion 
and executed by a fallen, sinful, finite being. 

5. Mercy. Now T over all the others and softening 
and tempering them presides this white-winged attri- 
bute of God. Therefore, combine in their proper re- 
lations all these infinite attributes of the infinite God 



182 SUNBEAMS. 



and we have infinite love. The problem then stands 
when plainly stated as follows : Power, wisdom, jus- 
tice, mercy, and vengeance equal and are love, for they 
are the attributes of God and He is love. We have a 
very beautiful and pointed illustration at hand. We 
are told that white light as seen in the sunbeam is 
composed of seven colors, viz : Violet, indigo, blue, 
green, yellow, orange and red. As light is composed 
by the proper blending of the seven colors of the rain- 
bow, so love is composed of the proper union or ex- 
ercise of all the attributes of God, and this may sug- 
gest the reason for that declaration of truth, u God is 
Light." We also learn, from the Lamp of Life, that 
when christians are doing their whole duty they are 
letting their light shine. 

We have more than intimated in the foregoing re- 
marks how God can be love and at the same time pun- 
ish the wicked forever and ever, but we will now pro- 
ceed to make this still more apparent. It has been 
said that "order is heaven's first law 7 ." But order is 
not a law at all, it is only the result attained by law. 
Hence our legislatures enact law r s so that we may be a 
quiet and orderly people. We can not be happy with- 
out order, and can not have order without law. Law 
produces order and order produces happiness. But 
law is powerless to produce order among the disorderly 
without punishment annexed, and the greater the pun- 
ishment the more powerful the law to produce order. 
Law produces order, order produces happiness. There- 
fore, eternal happiness depends upon eternal law, and 



SUNBEAMS. 



183 



eternal law depends for its power to produce order 
eternally, upon eternal punishment. Hence he who 
would strike eternal punishment from the bible would 
take away the foundation upon which eternal happi- 
ness rests. The punishment of the devil and his an- 
gels is so severe that no angel can ever be induced to 
sin. In order that their punishment be an eternal se- 
curity against sin in heaven, it must exist eternally. 
Eternal punishment is eternal, conscious pain, for 
punish comes from poena, pain. 

But some contend that eternal punishment is 
annihilation, but this cannot be, for there can be no 
consciousness of pain nor anything else in annihila- 
tion. If the wicked shall be annihilated there is no 
eternal punishment, and if no eternal punishment 
Jesus has deceived us— Henry Ward Beecher and 
Cannon Farrar to the contrary, notwithstanding. But 
having spoken somewhat of the attributes of God, 
and drawn some conclusions therefrom, we now pro- 
ceed to the attributes of man. "In the image of God 
created he him, male and female created he them." 
Man then was created in the image of God, and this 
being true, he certainly possesses all the attributes of 
Deity only to a limited and circumscribed extent. 

He has power, wisdom, justice, mercy, vengeance, 
but is forbidden to exercise the last. "Vengeance is 
mine, I will repay, saith the Lord." Rom. 12 : 19. 
Though forbidden to exercise vengeance now, the time 
will come when he must use it. When God shall say, 
"depart from me into everlasting fire prepared for the 



184 SUNBEAMS. 



devil and his angels/' He would be unable to approve 
of so severe a sentence if He did not have this attri- 
bute in His nature. To take vengeance is to punish 
exactly enough, no more, no less ; but man has not 
infinite wisdom to guide him in the exercise of ven- 
geance, therefore, God knowing that man cannot ex- 
ercise it in mercy, forbids him to try. Man possesses 
all the attributes of God, and this fact alone makes it 
possible for him to be redeemed. These attributes of 
God, through the Gospel revealed, strike the corres- 
ponding attributes in man and move him to action. 

Man alone, of all the creatures that God made for 
this earth, possesses these attributes, and consequently 
is the only one that can be saved. -Even Darwin's 
boasted monkey possesses not a single attribute of 
God, save that of power ; but why save the offspring 
and let the parents be lost? But this theory of Dar- 
winism presents the unheard of phenomenon of an 
effect greater than the cause producing it. 

The gospel is a full and complete expression of 
the attributes of God to the attributes of man, and 
hence is the "power of God unto salvation to every 
one that believeth." 

Hence, the gospel is the expression of the love 
of God, and the gospel is His power to save and His 
power to save evidently exists in His attributes. 

Thus you see that by another line of argument 
our position is sustained. Man is good or evil in pro- 
portion as he reflects these attributes of Deity or fails 
to do so. The lily is said to be white because it re- 



SUNBEAMS. 



185 



fleets all the colors of light in beautiful and exact pro- 
portion. So the saints are said to be white-robed be- 
cause they reflect in their lives all the attributes of 
Deity as seen in the example of Jesus. May the God 
of peace guide these words to the pouring out of a 
flood of light upon this grand theme. 




24 



EXTRACTS. 



IJHE clasped a rosebud fair 

Within her tiny hand, 
As soft as whispered prayer 
Goes to the sunlit land. 



9|N angel came down, from the regions of light, 

To meet at the River's deep wave 
And bear through the shadows a spirit in white 
To the throne of the Mighty to save. 



SflES ; lay him down gently beneath the green sod ; 
®' Now print on his brow the last tender kiss ; 
His spirit has crossed the dark River of God 

Where pain shall ne'er break the sweet spell of bliss. 



IN a beautiful day, when the autumn leaves fade, 

Alone by the ocean I thoughtfully strayed, 
And my soul was transported with gladness to be 
By the side of the waters so boundless and free. 






SUNBEAMS. 



187 



''HERE'S never a star in the brow of night. 
That looks on a scene so fair and bright, 
Whose hills and dells are with verdure rife, 
And flowers bloom on the tree of life. 



^ MIDST the green islands of coral, 



& 



Where the foot of no mortal hath trod, 



She has reached the strand all immortal 
And basked in the sunlight of God. 



JI hush like the silence of death 
Hangs over Calvary's brow, 
For Jesus, with laboring breath, 
Is treading the wine-press now. 



9| wave can reflect the whole train of the skies, 

As away from the wrath of the tempest it flies ; 
A dew 7 drop can bear in its bosom night's queen, 
All clad in her armor of silvery sheen ; 
The drop from the cloud bears the rainbow within — 
So the child is the emblem of freedom from sin. 



RELIGION. 



M 



fHIS word comes to us from the Latin "religio," 
"to bind anew," "to bind again." If man can 
be "re-bound" he must have been bound before. To 
necessitate a second binding the ties which primarily 
bound him must by some means have been rent. 
Viewed in its scriptural sense, it teaches that man was 
once united to his Maker by the golden chords of love, 
purity and obedience, that those ties were severed, 
and that now there is provision made to restore or re- 
unite him to the fountain of life. The word religion, 
then, embraces in its broad clasp the entire scheme of 
redemption, from the first faint streak of the dawn of 
creation's morn to the full-orbed splendor of creation 
restored. 

We shall devote this short chapter to the primary 
union with God. 

This is the happy condition of every child born 
into the world. If they droop, as beautiful flowers, 
and fade as by a blight while yet in childhood, they 
are saved. Nothing good and perfect in this universe 
shall be lost, for they all are the Father's own gifts to 
the children of men. "Sin is the transgression of 
law." Infants certainly cannot transgress law, there- 
fore they cannot sin. If they cannot sin they are not 
sinners. We further urge that they are not sinners 
because they are not embraced in the commission : 



SUNBEAMS. 



189 



- 



"Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to 
every creature ; he that believeth and is baptised 
shall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be 
damned/' Mark 16 : 15. But, says the objector, 
every creature was to hear the gospel preached, and 
infants are creatures, therefore they are embraced in 
this commission. Now if children are included sim- 
ply because they are creatures then we may include 
all the lower animals for the same reason. If this ar- 
gument proves anything, it proves altogether too 
much for the advocates of infant depravity. The 
"every creature" here is limited to "he that believeth 
and is baptised," or, if you please, to those who are 
capable of believing on the Lord Jesus Christ and be- 
ing baptised into his name. Now we believe it is 
almost if not universally conceded that belief or faith 
comes from hearing and understanding testimony; 
but infants cannot understand the evidences upon 
which the gospel stands and which gives it such won- 
derful power over the hearts and lives of men. For 
this if for no other reason Christ did not include them 
in the commission. Not being included in "The 
power of God unto salvation" they are in no danger 
of being lost. If they need to be saved from sin, the 
fact of their being left out of Christ's commission to 
all the world, to every creature, is perfectly unaccount- 
able, for he came "to seek and to save the lost and to 
call sinners to repentance or reformation of life." 

Jesus said : "Verily, I say unto you, except ye 
be converted and become as little children ye shall not 



190 SUNBEAMS. 



enter into the kingdom of heaven." Matt. 18 : 3. 
Hence a little child is just as a converted man must 
become to be fit for admission into the kingdom of 
heaven. Now if little children are sinners, then Jesus 
taught his disciples that they must become sinners to 
be fit for the kingdom, for they must "become as little 
children. 77 Except ye be converted and become such 
sinners as little children are ye cannot enter into the 
kingdom of heaven. When a man is converted his 
sins are all forgiven him — they are blotted out; the 
blood of Jesus cleanses him from all sin ; he is then 
free, wholly free, from sin, and in this regard, as also 
in many others, is like a little child. If little children 
are included in the "every creature" of the commis- 
sion they will all be lost, for they cannot believe the 
gospel, and u he that believeth not shall be damned." 
This is universal damnation to the purest, holiest, 
sweetest ones of Adam's race. It is asked — if children 
are not sinners at birth why do they sin so early in 
life? We might ask such objector, why did Adam and 
Eve sin so early in life, especially since they were sur- 
rounded by everything pure and holy? If that weak- 
ness in the child by which temptation overcomes it be 
a sin, what was it in the first pair before they sinned? 
If that weakness of nature be a sin, then Adam and 
Eve were sinners before they sinned, for they certainly 
had this weakness, else temptation could not have 
overcome them. Again, if this frailty be sinful, then 
God is the author of it, for he created it in the first 
ones of our race. Children, it is true, have this weak- 



SUNBEAMS. 



191 



ness, but cannot sin till they are old enough to act 
understanding^ and voluntarily. Sin is an act, and 
in the very nature of things cannot be transmitted by 
generation. That all men suffer much from Adam's 
sin cannot be disputed, but that they are held respon- 
sible for it before God is here most emphatically de- 
nied. Christ took away that "sin of the world," or 
the sin which is world-wide in its effects, by establish- 
ing, through his resurrection, the great resurrection of 
the dead. If we are sinners because Adam was, and 
inherit our sinfulness from our parents, from whom do 
the children born of christians get their sinful na- 
tures? Those parents are now 7 free from sin — cleansed 
from all sin — and certainly cannot transmit to their 
child by generation or otherwise that which they do 
not possess. "Ex nihilo nihil fit." "Out of nothing 
nothing comes." All sinful men, w T hen they cast a 
backward look over their lives, cry out, even though 
they be in the midnight revel, "0 ! for the purity of 
my childhood once more." This universal feeling 
proves that all men have the consciousness within 
them that little children are pure. Yet teachers of re- 
ligion claim that they are sinners at birth and liars 
from the cradle. We read at this juncture "Methodist 
Discipline," page 40, section 2, article 53, printed in 
1872 : "We hold that all children, by virtue of the 
unconditional benefits of the atonement, are members 
of the kingdom of God, and, therefore, graciously en- 
titled to baptism." If children are members of the 
kingdom of God they are not sinners, and if they need 



192 SUNBEAMS. 



baptism they are sinners, for baptism is "for the re- 
mission of sins." Peter says : "Repent and be bap- 
tized (eis aphes in hamartion) for forgiveness of sins." 
Acts 2 : 38. Our Savior used exactly the same Greek 
words with reference to the shedding of his blood : 
"For this is my blood of the new testament which is 
shed for many (eis aphes in hamartion) for the for- 
giveness of sins." Matt. 26 : 28. The only rational 
conclusion, it seems to us, is that the blood of the Sa- 
vior and baptism are both for the forgiveness of sins. 
Children, being already free from sins, are not proper 
subjects of scriptural baptism. This becomes the 
more impressive when we remember "Of such is the 
kingdom of heaven," and "Their angels do always be- 
hold the face of my Father which is in heaven." 




RELIGION 



NUMBER TWO. 



jjj|E not surprised when we announce to you that 
while the progenitors of our race walked and 
talked in union with God in Eden's shady groves, sun- 
lit landscapes and balmy retreats, there was no such 
thing as religion on earth. All was deep, pure, holy 
piety upon the part of man, and perfect peace and 
union, as well as communion, between him and his 
Maker. Had this condition of things continued until 
now the world would perhaps never have known how 
much the Father loved His creature — man. But how 
deep and exhaustless His love, as manifested age after 
age, and century after century, as He unrolls the 
scroll of time, revealing His goodness to the children 
of men. 

Cast now a glance forth into the physical universe 
of God. See how that, age after age, millions of 
w T orlds roll on without clash or discord, though appa- 
rently strewn carelessly over the fields of space. Year 
follows year, seasons come and go in perfect order, the 
leaves and flowers brighten and cheer the fields of 
earth, then fade and fall with the utmost regularity. 
We ask ourselves, why is this ; while in the realm of 
mind we find such wild confusion and disorder? It is 
because everywhere else but in the realm of mind and 

25 



194 SUNBEAMS. 



spirit the infinite will rules undisturbed by any op- 
posing power. Neither angel, man, nor devil can in- 
trude here, for the Almighty has reserved the empire 
of physical nature to Himself alone. When God gave 
man a will, by that act He gave him the power to re- 
sist His counsels, oppose His good pleasure, and intro- 
duce confusion into the moral universe. Here it is 
that disorder, wreck and ruin strew the bosom of cre- 
ation. The original word, sin, translated, means "to 
miss the mark." The Holy Spirit, through the prophet 
Isaiah, says of Jerusalem and Judah : "When ye 
spread forth your hands I will hide Mine eyes from 
you ; yea, when ye make prayers T will not hear ; your 
hands are full of blood." Chap. 1 : 15. By their dis- 
obedience they had so far missed the mark that God 
would not hear them. Jesus of Nazareth introduces 
this deplorable state of things to us in the following 
terms : "Come unto me all ye that labor and are 
heavy laden and I will give you rest." Matt. 11 : 28. 
Man, then, is separated from God and his Christ, or 
else he could not come to Jesus. This distance is not 
physical but moral. This distance is simply a differ- 
ence of character. The distance between a sinner and 
Jesus is the distance between sin and holiness. The 
only way possible for sinners to come to him is to 
change in character till they are like him. God 
changes not. He is forever and ever the same. With 
Him "is no variableness nor shadow of turning." On 
the other hand the whole history of man is one cease- 
less line of changes from birth to death. Indeed, the 



SUNBEAMS. 



19" 



very terms of the gospel — believe, repent and be 
baptized — are all indicative of change in man. Here 
he is taught to become as a little child, and by so do- 
ing he becomes Christlike. God did not leave man 
and wander away, but man left Him, and it is but 
just that the wanderer should return. The history of 
the Prodigal is but the history of the race. He vol- 
untarily went away from his father into a far country 
— a land of famine and death — and placed so great a 
distance between himself and a happy home that 
naught but the remembrance of his father's love could 
reach him and move him to return. So there is a 
"great gulf" between sinful men and God, but, thank 
Him for His goodness, it is not "fixed ;" yet it is so 
broad, and deep, and fearful, that naught in heaven 
above nor earth beneath can overlap it and save the 
perishing but the love of God. Thank God, whose 
matchless love has thrown over that awful breach the 
glittering arches of the Bridge of Redemption and 
illuminated it with His word, saying to all His wan- 
dering children : "Gome unto Me all ye that labor 
and are heavy laden and I will give you rest.'' 0, 
what an army of men was once, ay, still are, beyond 
that gulf and away from God. "The whole world lieth 
in idleness." 1 Jno. 5 : 19. "There is none good ; no, 
not one." "All have sinned and come short of the 
glory of God." "Wide is the gate and broad is the 
way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be 
which go in thereat." Matt. 7 : 13. When a man 
passes in at the wide gate he is from that moment 



196 SUNBEAMS. 



separated from his Heavenly Father and on the way 
to ruin, and unless he turns about and retraces his 
steps he will surely reach that fearful destination. 
Remember, too, that none are forced into the wide gate, 
but voluntarily "go in thereat ;" so if they never re- 
turn, but reach the dark regions of despair, they go 
there in spite of all power in heaven and on earth to 
save them. That this alienation still exists we have 
only to look around us and see the carnage of ten 
thousand battle-fields, hear the cry of broken-hearted 
widows, and hear the heart-rending wail of orphan 
children. Still closer home than this, even in our own 
hearts, we see the scars of the conflict with sin, 
proving that if we are not now we once were sold 
under sin and aliens from God. Job laments this sep- 
aration between man and the Father by saying there 
is no daysman between man and God, that He might 
lay his hand upon both and bring them together. But 
now Jesus Christ, the true daysman, with one almighty 
arm, lays hold of falling man, and with the other 
seizes the throne of God and unites them again. 




RELIGION 



NUMBER THREE. 



HfHE Bible anticipates even the thoughts and intents 
of our hearts. The Spirit, having infinite knowl- 
edge, foresaw that men born in a land of sin and sor- 
row, pain and woe, and death, would naturally in- 
quire the cause of their condition ; therefore, God has 
told in simple speech the story of the first sinner and 
the first sin ; for sin alone is the cause of all our suf- 
fering and our separation from God. Upon this point 
Isaiah, the prince of prophets, is very clear : "Your 
iniquities have separated between you and your God, 
and your sins have hid His face from you that He will 
not hear." Isa. 59 : 2. So also Paul testifies still 
more universally : "For as by the disobedience of the 
one man the many were constituted sinners." (M. E. 
Lard's translation.) Rom. 5 : 19. Please notice here 
that they were not actual sinners, but were only con- 
stituted sinners. They were sinners only as to their 
constitutions, and even that not by their own acts but 
by the act of the one man, who was Adam. They, of 
course, personally, had nothing to do with the con- 
stitutions with which they were born, which had even 
then the seeds of death within them. And they were 
by constitution sinners only so far as to die the death 
of the body. "As by Adam all die, even so by Christ 



198 



SUNBEAMS. 



shall all be made alive/ 7 1 Cor. 15 : 22. The Uni- 
versalis ts and many others claim that all men were 
made spiritual sinners in Adam, and, therefore, that 
all men will be made spiritually alive in Christ. A 
careful, candid examination of the context will con- 
vince any man who trembles at the w T ord of God that 
this is erroneous. Paul continues that verse by say- 
ing : -"But every man in his own order— Christ the 
first fruit, afterward they that are Christ's at his com- 
ing. Christ the first fruit. He then w r as in that 
death by Adam with all that it means, or else he could 
not be the first fruit from it ; neither could he be the 
redeemer of men from that death. When we notice 
this feature of the case we cannot entertain the 
thought for a moment that the death in advance is a 
spiritual one. We cannot think that the immaculate 
lamb of God was ever dead in trespasses and in sins. 
Jesus did die the death of the body, on Calvary, and 
was buried, and did arise the "first fruit" from it — 
the first-born from the dead among many brethren. 
This, then, is the death that all men die in Adam, and 
the same from which they will all be made alive by 
Christ. They were then constituted sinners that they 
might die. They were constituted just only so far as 
to be raised through Christ from the dead. How then, 
do you ask, do all men die in Adam ? In this way, 
and in this way only : When Adam and Eve sinned 
they, by that act, became under the sentence of death 
and had, as it were, the seeds of death sown in their 
bodies, therefore, all their posterity must inherit like 



SUNBEAMS. 



199 



constitutions from them, even mortal frames, and, be- 
ing mortal, they must all die. We then have reached 
clearly the cause of our separation from God. Sin is 
that cause. The actual commission of sin by the in- 
dividual. Adam became a sinner for himself when he 
sinned. So do all his children become sinners when 
they sin "in the similitude of Adam's transgression." 
Each one then becomes a sinner for himself alone. 
But the most solemn thought of all is that "as by 
Adam all die, even so by Christ shall they be resur- 
rected or made alive." As they die, even so they 
will be made whole. If a man goes to the grave sin- 
ful, even so will he rise from it. If he goes there 
having woven a robe of white around him in Christ, 
even so, or exactly so, shall he rise to stand before 
Christ. How important then that each one flee for 
refuge to Jesus, for the "Blood of Jesus Christ his son 
cleanses us from all sin." 




FAREWELL. 



JtAREWELL, dear reader ; our journey together, to 
^ me, has been a joyous pilgrimage. We have 
gathered rich bouquets from the vernal fields of earth, 
and, rising on the wings of thought, wandered away 
with angels among the starry gems of night ; stood 
beside the wildly rolling waves of the ocean at even- 
tide and watched the departing sun tinging the west- 
ern clouds and rolling waves with its glory — sweet 
emblem of the christian's death. Far away in the 
deep solitude of the eternal hills we have seen the 
sparkling waterfall, with fantastic leap, dash away ; 
heard the wild bird's scream ; woven delicate garlands 
of autumn leaves entwined with moss and evergreens ; 
seen the flash of angels' wings as they came and went 
on errands of mercy. Together we have stood beside 
the coffined form of the young and beautiful, and 
laureled his grave with sweetest wreaths of spotless 
white, and by faith have seen him rise on the side of 
victory and eternal life. Now, kind friend, we must 
part. May it be the unspeakable fortune of both the 
reader and the author to meet at last in that home of 
eternal youth to wear the crown of life. 



